The Sith's Apprentice, Book One: Apprentice
by Illuviar
Summary: A Sith Lord ends up reincarnated on Earth with a few simple goals - make a fortune so he could enjoy a long overdue vacation, uplift the local technology for convenience sake, because not having a proper planetary datanet is simply so bothersome and pick up an apprentice. After all, someone has to deal with any new (or old) up and coming Dark Lords and the British Wizarding World.
1. Prologue Chapter 1 Part 1

**AN: For the time being I got a bit burned off from RK II. Until I'm back on track, please tell me your thoughts about the following idea:**

 **Shadowwolf on the space battle's forums** **brought back to mind a few ideas I had about Veil ending up in the HP verse from back when I was just beginning to write RK. In the last few days the concept wouldn't let me alone, so here's a snippet.**

 **The general idea is that this time around Delkatar has no intention of taking a central stage. He'll train his apprentice while concentrating on uplifting Earth to have some half-decent tech for convenience sake and enjoying his vacation. At least 2/3 of the story will be centred upon the shenanigans of Harry and his friends. From Veil's POV it has been a very long time since he saw anything about HP, so he would be of no much help as far as out of universe future knowledge goes.**

 **Further, I'll intent to play with various concept for the sake of world-building and trying to gain inspiration for my other HP stories, which have been on ice for years now due to my muse not cooperating.**

 **I've been fascinated with the fannon of ancient houses and family magic in particular, however there are just a handful of stories that handle those in a way that doesn't make most people in the verse look either malicious or as idiots; the primary reason is when and how they're introduced - usually during or after third year or the tournament, something that tends to grate and bring down even otherwise decent stories.**

 **Thoughts on how to make those work?**

 **AN2: Well, it turns out that I had a lot of fun writing about the Sith's adventures in the late eighties, though as the ideas and the worldbuilding began to take shape, it dawned to me that doing it properly and in a chronological order it would take too much time and research, something that would grind the story to a halt . That why I decided that after a certain point I'll be writing Veil's shenanigans out of chronological order as my muse and inclination for research allowed and spread them through Harry's own adventures in Hogwarts and beyond. Harry makes his first appearance in chapter six and after that we so far have a block of updates that covers his changed circumstances until he is sorted before returning for a closer look into the Sith's attempts to uplift Earth in a proper retirement spot.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **The Sith's Apprentice, Book I: The Apprentice**

 **=TSA=**

 **Prologue: A long overdue vacation...**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

A grey void not dissimilar to a nebula, extending as far as my senses could reach?

Check.

Me, floating in the middle of it?

Check.

The seductive whispers of the Dark Side that were my constant companion for what felt like an eternity now fallen silent because I could no longer access my power?

Check.

"Did I get myself killed, again?" I sighed mentally.

I've been here before – more times than I cared to recall and there was no point of speaking aloud.

"For once, you actually didn't." A heart-warming lilting voice whispered in my ears. Soft, warm breath caressed my back when the entity I've been working for what felt like an eternity made her or should I say, its, presence known.

"Here to make me another offer I couldn't possibly refuse?" I asked bitterly.

As a Dark Lord of the Sith, once upon a time I used to be one of the most powerful beings in a whole galaxy – yet even at the height of my power, I was as helpless against my "patron" as a babe in arms presented to the Sith Emperor on one of his bad days.

"Oh, you can refuse this one, though then I'm sure I can find you something to do, my knight." A sense of amusement washed over my whole being.

I had no illusions about the kind of relationship we had – even if it wasn't as bad as it could have been. At best I was a trouble-shooter to one of the closest being to a God that I've met. At worst – I suspected she was forging me into a weapon for a task that when it came I wouldn't survive... and I had no real recourse but accept; once upon a time, when I was at the height of my power as a Sith Lord, my patron allowed me to get a glimpse of her true self – let's just say it was humbling and left it at that.

"What new hell I should be dealing with this time?" I groused.

"Why, my knight, you'll be going to one of the closest places to home, you'll ever be able to visit!" She announced cheerfully.

Home? I scoffed at that thought. What was home now? Once upon a time, that used to be the version of Earth that I was born on. Eventually I began to consider such a few worlds in a universe most people would call Star Wars, but even that was a long time ago. Now? The closest thing I had to home was the world I was dumped last, due to memories not my own.

"You're getting a vacation!"

A bitter chuckle escaped my lips. I remember my last supposed "vacation" - I ended up stuck in a medieval hell-hole that I couldn't get up to an acceptable tech level before finally kicking the bucket, buying the farm... well, you get my drift.

"I mean it!" My patron pouted – at least that was the sense I got from her. It wasn't like I've ever seen her real face. The one time I did glimpse a part of her true self, it nearly drove me insane. "All I want from you is train an apprentice – he'll be doing the heavy lifting on this one. Otherwise, you're free to kick back and relax on this one!"

I snorted. It was never that simple with her.

"Try to have a bit of fun!" My patron cheerfully bid me farewell.

The grey expanse rippled and I was thrown in yet another world...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **11 December 1996**

 **north-east from the British Isles**

It's been more than thirteen years since I spared a thought about my patron – besides the odd curse now and then. Technically speaking, she was right – compared to the usual shenanigans I had to deal with, this time around, it was a vacation. Usually. Most of the time.

When my idiot of an Apprentice didn't fuck up by the numbers that is... or his accursed Potter luck didn't act up – which tended to happen with a distressing regularity.

I grumbled a curse under my nose and looked around. High waves did their best to overturn the boat we were sailing in. Freezing spay carried by piercing wind slammed into enchanted armour and thankfully was a mere inconvenience instead of a real danger. On what passed for the horizon in the middle of the night during the next best thing to a torrential rain in December in the middle of the North Sea, I could see the vague outline of our destination – the Island of Azkaban. For more than a month my idiot of an apprentice was stuck there, for a crime he most definitely did commit – in the great hall of Hogwarts in front of hundreds of witnesses no less. I still wasn't sure what was at fault – the Dark Side, the fact that he was a bloody teenager or if the sorry excuse of a pink Neimoidian I was unfortunately acquainted with really had it coming. Nevertheless, even if the Under-secretary of the British Minister of Magic really had it coming – which for the record she actually did, I had no idea what possessed my Apprentice to deal with her in such a foolish way.

Teenage hormones? The Dark Side? Being a suicidal idiot? Bah! Kids these days! I was still half-tempted to let the young fool stew in his cell for a couple of months, but my wife simply wouldn't hear anything about that...

"Five minutes sir!" Our driver said over the comms – it wasn't like we could properly hear each other otherwise with the sea doing its best to drown us like a pack of rats.

I just nodded and glared at the fortress of doom we were fast approaching.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **High Security wing**

 **Location: Unplottable**

 **Azkaban Prison**

Cold fog seeped in his cell and snap-froze when it got near the door where a pair of Dementors greedily ate any positive emotion he ever had. Charms, curses and enchantments anchored by powerful runic arrays surrounded the whole level, yet most of their power was centred upon Harry Potter's personal slice of hell. For the first week of his imprisonment, he did his best to shatter the chains that bound him to the wall across the door. They were thick and heavy made from enhanced Goblin steel and despite all the fear and fury gripping his heart, Harry couldn't make a dent in them.

A place like this – the closest one to hell upon this Earth, should have been a tremendous fuel to his non-magic powers. It was in a sense – Azkaban was a prison where people had been suffering in utter despair for hundreds of years. The Dark Side was powerful in this place. However, the effects the Dementors had on Harry's mind combined with all the protections meant to contain him were more than enough to keep him stuck in his cell recalling his worst memories.

The only small consolation he had was that he could hear his mother's voice when his mind replayed again and again the night when he was orphaned all those years ago. The memories of his five years with his _relatives_ _,_ well, that was worse. The worst of the training with his Master made the highlights too...

His master, that madman... Where was he anyway? Was he trying to get him out legally? Did he abandon him to this hell? The man did promise that Harry would get just one chance to fuck up by the numbers and still get help... and he did that more than a year before losing all semblance on control in the great hall...

Harry shuddered when that thought brought a different memory to the forefront of his mind – the very reason he ended up in Azkaban. His fury was hot enough to push away the chill caused by the Dementors and replace it with the all encompassing frost of the Dark Side. For a moment Harry felt a tremendous surge of power – he almost believed himself unstoppable, which as a lie. If that was a case, he would have already escaped hell.

He railed against his bonds and the cell he was locked in. A powerful surge of the Force slammed in the surrounding walls for all the good it did – it merely chugged all the dust inside in the air making Harry sneeze.

"Merlin damn it!" Potter spat.

He was cold and tired. All he could hear was his mother begging for his life and Riddle hissing the Killing Curse.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **The Island of Azkaban**

 **Location Unplottable**

"This is too easy..." A mercenary muttered.

He was one of six who just landed on the shore of the island where possibly the most infamous prison in the world stood. They were all wizards and witches – either Muggleborn or Half-Bloods and every single one of them expected to at least face monitoring charms long before they could reach their destination. If there were any, none of them managed to detect them – despite the two dedicated curse-breakers on the crew doing their best to do so ever since the island appeared on the horizon. Still, that didn't stop two more of their number from keeping up various concealment spells on top of those layered upon their ridiculously expensive hand-crafted equipment.

"By all accounts, even after Black made himself scarce, the primary defence here are the Dementors." Their boss said. His voice was distorted by the comm-unit that was built in everyone's helmets, giving it an impersonal electronic inflection. "If our intelligence is right, there should be only eight people here besides us and the prisoners."

Ah. The prisoners, Ignatius Vance thought. They were here to spirit one of them away and assassinate the others stuck in the high-security wing – something that should have been unthinkable. No one broke in or out of Azkaban... until a couple of years ago, when Sirius Black let himself go.

Well, no one had their equipment, Intelligence nor their boss, who was leading the raid. Ignatius had been working for Veil for more than a decade now and he still didn't know what exactly the man was. Oh, the man who paid his very generous pay-checks was a wizard – an utterly average one as far as power went, however he had something more – a power the ageing mercenary hadn't seen before. That was saying something – in his decades long career, Vance had fought in every conflict of note across the world since WWII.

Ignatius knew his boss – the same was true for his colleagues. They trusted him and his expertise, which was the real reason they agreed to take part in this particular insanity. The generous pay-day did help, but in the end it was secondary – you had to be alive to spent your money after all and there were precious few people alive Vance would believe had a prayer of waltzing in and out of Azkaban if they put their minds to it.

"We're clear. I think." Their chief curse-breaker muttered. "I'm still getting nothing."

Veil tapped Ignatius on the shoulder and the soldier of fortune nodded.

"Move up, carefully." He ordered. His eyes scanned the jagged cliffs leading up towards the castle on the far side of the island. Enhanced lenses stuck in night vision goggles, which were part of his helmet illuminated the cloudy, moonless night almost as bright as a day and as an added bonus ensured that sudden bright sources of light wouldn't blind any member of the mercenary group.

Vance shouldered his battle rifle and followed behind the rest of the unit – another rifleman was on point, wand waving curse-breakers a few steps behind followed up by the pair of witches busy keeping various concealment spells up. Ignatius along with the boss kept the rear covered.

He couldn't help but worry. Even this far out of the prison itself, despite the sealed armour and the various enhancements layered upon bleeding edge armour, the mercenary could still feel chill caused by the presence of all the Dementors of the British Wizarding World.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

One of the Dementors skulking around the outer edges of the Prison of Azkaban sensed something. It was hungry after being stuck outside as a punishment detail after going after those tasty morsels at the castle it got stationed a few years ago – as if one of its kind could not go after such a feast!

It wasn't fair! It almost got its hands on the best meal ever!

The Dementor would have pouted in gloom if it could, then it perked up. It's hooded head snapped to the south and it sniffed with senses no mortal had. There were souls approaching! It could finally satiate its eternal hunger!

Without waiting for an order or bothering to report to the nasty souls that kept it under a semblance of control, the starving Dementor surged through sheets of torrential rain. Many of its brethren noticed its departure and froze in an attempt to figure out what was wrong. It took them mere moments to sense the approaching prey before more than a hundred of them flew south desperate to be the first to reach the tasty souls coming to serve themselves for dinner.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Chapter 1: A brand new world**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **5 January 1986**

 **Wizarding Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

A young man known as Dimitri Veil – a recent graduate from Drumstrang Institute, awoke in a ditch, covered by a blanket of fresh snow. His body was numb and his mind, well that was a mess. He could remember bits and pieces... of impossibility; of worlds that should not, _could_ not exist. Dimitri recalled his time in the school of magic, his family – all dead thanks to the British Blood War that spilled upon the continent and inflamed ashes that by all rights should have been laid to rest forty years ago.

Dimitri stirred and with a groan lifted himself from the ditch. He shook away the snow covering him and patted himself for his wand. He needed it to cast a warming charm before he got frostbite – a worse one anyway if the numbness he felt was any indication. His mind moved along slowly, trying in vain to make sense of his fragmented memories. Who was he really? The son of a minor British Wizarding aristocrat who lost everything but a nearly worthless title in the war and a Muggleborn witch? Was he the Dark Lord of the Sith as some of his memories claimed?

He shook his head and winced when that motion caused him to sway on his feet. Dimitri needed his wand, to get warm and away from the snow. Only then he could try to make sense of how, who and why someone messed with his head.

Yeah. That sounded like a plan.

Where was that wand? How did he end up in a ditch of all paces anyway?

His head pounded and he recalled drunken laugher, followed by spell-fire. His body jerked as he got a flashback of diving into the ditch and casting by instinct born of years spent under one of Drumstrang's duelling masters.

There was a dreaded flash of poisonous green light flying at him and then... Dimitri blinked in confusion. Then he awoke in the ditch. That surely couldn't be, right? He didn't die just to awake half-frozen to death! There was only one who could claim surviving the Killing Curse and that boy was half a continent away!

Dimitri shivered as sensation began to slowly bleed back in his body. Countless tiny needles pricked at his skin, doing their best to drive him insane. He stumbled up to the nearby wall and leaned his back upon the cold stone. He had to get a grip on himself!

The wizard slammed shut his eyes and recalled everything he was taught about Occlumency – he was by no means a master, however being even moderately proficient in that mental discipline was quite a boon. Using the correct exercises and mental triggers, Dimitri forced his mind to still and tried to force the disjointed memories away so he could... He fell to his knees and moaned as jagged pieces of memories not his own, or were they, snapped together in a patchwork that wasn't quite Dimitri Veil. Not by a long shot...

His midnscape re-arranged under the orderly touch of Occlumency gone out of his control – which should have been impossible. There was a vast presence connected to his mind – like an ocean of untapped, sleeping power. He could sense it, almost touch it... and it looked back at him. Just as the last pieces of foreign memories finished integrating and _overwriting_ pieces of his own, that power _awoke_ and surged through his whole being.

It was only then that he knew.

He did die last night. Whoever, whatever he was now, it wasn't the same man who graduated from Drumstrang last summer.

Occlumency barriers and mental shields foreign to this world snapped in place. Power, both freezing and warm surged through his veins chasing away the frostbite. He took a deep breath and when he opened his eyes they shone with a sickly yellow light.

"Son of a bitch!" He cursed in a language no one on Earth would understand, before switching to his mother's Russian – one that most people in Bulgaria would know after the country spent the last forty odd years as a satellite to the Soviet Union. "The closest place to home, huh?" He shrugged and straightened up. "Dimitri Veil. Close enough I guess." The reborn wizard raised up a hand and called his wand using the Force. A thing ebony stick flew from under the snow. The moment he touched it, Dimitri felt the connection reforming. "Ten centimetres, Ebony and Dragon Heart String. Good for Charms." He sighed and applied a warming charm over himself and let out a long pleased sight as a surge of warmth washed over his freezing body. "That's better." He muttered.

Now where was the nearest tavern? A cantina or perhaps a hotel?

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **The Ugly Witch Tavern**

 **Wizarding Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Twenty minutes later, I was in a free room of the first tavern I ran into holding a cup of steaming soup and still trying to properly warm myself. This one was one of the more traumatic insertions I had to deal with, though by no means the worst. At least I wasn't literally blackmailed with do or die slowly like the first time I ended up working for my so called patron. She didn't really give me any information before dumping me in here, though I could make some educated guesses. While its been a very long time since I was on Earth – any version of it, what little I did remember combined with Dimitri's memories – and wasn't that a kick in the bollocks considering how close that name was to my own, I could make some educated guesses, though that wasn't on my mind right now.

Sofia – I spent years living in that city back when I was an ordinary human living an ordinary life. When she told me that this place was close to home she wasn't lying – too much anyway. Hell, if the date Dimitri thought it was was right, this was less than a month after I was supposed to be born and I was just a few hundred kilometres away from my family – if they existed in this world. That was something I would be checking once I got warmed up, some rest and figured out what assets I had available. However, first things first, I would be finishing the hot soup and trying my best to straighten up my memories...

Assets – a warm room paid for the next few days, including three hot meals a day and more or less unlimited access to hot showers. My wand, and magic, which was neat. The Force too – arguably even better, though I was biased. Sooner than latter I would need to find a secluded place and figure out exactly what were my limits.

What else did I have besides the clothes on my back?

A pouch with five galleons and some assorted lesser currency that made up two more galleons. Those were Goblin minted enhanced currency that couldn't be falsified, nor smelted for the precious metals. The exchange rate between the galleon and various muggle currencies was controlled by the Goblins – along with most banking across the world. According to Drumstrang's resident History teacher – a three hundred old vampire who insisted mothering the students at every opportunity, the reason for that state of affair was quite simple. The Goblins either won or fought to a standstill during their last round of rebellions and then blackmailed the wizarding world as a whole during WWII – which in this world was much worse than what happened in my own – almost a hundred million people died across Europe, North Africa and North America alone. If it wasn't for Albus Dumbledore finally entering the fray in 1944, most of Europe could have ended nuked to hell and back instead of only Japan getting two cans of instant sunshine along with third hitting a certain target in China.

I rubbed my forehead and regretted not being able to remember more from my original past – it felt that it might have been important.

The scent of the chicken soup distracted me and I drained half the cup. It couldn't be helped – besides, there was no guarantee that anything that I could remember would be of any relevance in this world. I learned that the hard way already – preconceptions and believing you knew the future could be one of the deadliest enemies.

Mmm. The soup was actually quite good.

Now, what else did I have at my disposal? The family vault, which had a couple of hundred galleons, half of which I earned with summer work during my years as student, the family tittle – which had a little importance in Wizarding Britain, a plot of land where the family cottage used to be before Death Eaters burned it down along with my parents before Aurors took out the bastards... and a small villa somewhere in France.

Not exactly ideal but a nice nest-egg.

I finished the soup and wondered what exactly was I supposed to do. I was supposedly here to train an apprentice and enjoy a vacation. It wasn't exactly rocket science to figure out who my supposed apprentice should be – the so called Boy-Who-Lived. Bloody hyphens.

I would have to track the kid down and figure out what I was supposed to train him in, but that was for later. First I was about to get some solid dinner, some sleep and then go see if my original family had counterparts in this reality. After that...

I grimaced. This was 1986 – practically the dark ages! So many conveniences I took for granted in any world I ended up in except for those few medieval hell-holes simply didn't really exist yet! I didn't even want to think what passed for interned and computers in this day and age!

I had to do something about that. Get rich in the process too - because I had the nagging feeling that taking Harry bloody Potter under my wings could get expensive, not to mention troublesome. Besides, if I was to be using this life to chill off for once, that could get expensive too...

My stomach grumbled. Fine, dinner first, plotting uplifting the world so it would become more convenient could wait for tomorrow!


	2. Chapter 1 Parts 2&3

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1: A brand new world**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **6 January 1986**

 **Bulgaria**

I wasn't sure what I was expected when I came to visit the counterpart of my family in this world, but certainly wasn't this. The town where I was born so long ago... well, it no longer existed on this Earth. I stood upon the mountain overlooking it and all I could see was few ruins still unclaimed by time and scavengers. This had been one of the last major engagements of the magic WWII – or so the monument behind me claimed. Liberal amounts of Fiendfyre, curses that even Drumstrang didn't dare even mention and four armies fought and died in this area. The very land died with them.

I looked away from the ruined, barren chunk of blackened ground where the street I played as a young child used to be. My eyes went to the monument – where the names of all who died below me were inscribed. I didn't need magic or the Force to find my grandfather's name – dead as a young lad, years before he had a chance to meet my grandmother.

I could have never been born in this world it seems. I didn't know what to feel about that. What I did know was that magic was not to be underestimated. There were echoes here – when if I closed my eyes I could feel the battle that claimed my place of birth as if it was still ongoing. Living and dead, wizard, witches and ordinary people alike tearing at each other in an orgy of destruction that would make any Sith proud.

I shook my head. Everyone responsible for this has been dead for a long time. And even if they weren't... This was not my world. Not my family. Not, really. The same was true for Dimitri Veil's parents – his emotions and memories, which I did inherit were distant things – like something I've read in a not particularly important report. There was no real emotion associated with them. Just a dull, distant sense of loss.

I sighed and apparated away. It took a few jumps to end back in my room in the Ugly Witch Tavern, where I proceeded to crash into the bed and stare at the white ceiling.

For the first time in ages, I was free! There was no war to fight, no impending enemy that I had to prepare for. No one was after me, nor did I have any responsibilities worth talking about. A hearty chuckle escaped my lips and I relaxed in the bed.

I was free and I had no bloody idea where to start with my new lease on life. On another world I would have simply accessed the local data-net for information. Here? That was in its infancy at best. Library perhaps... I closed my eyes trying to recall what the general technology level of this world was. As a Half-Blood I was more familiar with it compared with my Pure-blood peers, however the years spent behind Drumstrang's walls didn't really help. Perhaps I should have taken Muggle Studies too...

I closed my eyes and concentrated. Electronics, computers... Dimitri knew they were a thing, but more of a novelty at this stage, though they were beginning to make a headway, at least in the west. What could I do to help give them a push? Which would be the big players in that technological sphere? How much my knowledge could help given the low tech level of this world? While it was a long time ago, I did remember well the theory and some of the engineering behind fusion reactors – I got them because I wanted command of my own cruiser back when I served the Sith Empire. In those days, Sith or not, actually being the captain of a capital ship required both significant amount of technical knowledge and time spent in a naval accademy – which was both worth it on multiple occasions and for a time got me away from playing errand boy for Darth Baras, which incidentally helped me retain some of my sanity.

Once I got fusion going, it would set me up for life, however doing that would require a lot more resources that I had or could feasibly steal, not to mention help from engineers, scientists and better computers at the very least – that would shave a lot of time from getting a proper fusion reactor going. I needed clean assets to finance my work in the muggle world, which probably meant patents, inventions, etc... What could I get going that would make me money at this time?

That question sent me back to square one – I needed more information. Library? It was all about money and getting more of them at this point. I smiled. I knew just the people to help with that!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Gringotts**

 **Wizarding Quarter**

 **Sofia**

Without memories of distant worlds, I would gladly admit that the Gringotts' various branches were some of the most awe-inspiring building I've seen. Well, Dimitri has seen. While they had nothing on the grandeur of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, much less some Sith Architecture I was familiar with, the bank was at least more tastefully set up than the latter.

When I walked through the main door, I looked at the interior through new eyes – and the Force. Without waving my wand around and casting spells, there was very little I could detect the last time I was at Gringotts. Today, however? I could get a sense of the sheer amount of power weaved in the very stone below my feet. Possessing both the Force and magic, gave me a new insight and appreciation for this place. While it would take some experimenting to see how those two energies interacted – it was possible to at least detect and sense magic through the Force. I wasn't sure what the various charms and enchantments did – that would take active spell-casting, which was a bad, bad idea – it was forbidden for wizards to draw their wands on Gringotts soil unless it was under the monitoring and direction of Goblins for certain rituals, identification, or inside a wizard's or witch's own vault.

Curiously, the restriction was for wands, not weapons – and it took me just now walking past a large plaque where that rule was actually inscribed along with some others for that revelation to sink in. Cunning little buggers – precious few wizards or witches would deign to think about carrying a weapon that wasn't a wand and even fewer would know what to do with such.

I walked to the closest free teller – the goblin looked like a larger, more humanoid version of Yoda's species, with better skin tone and nastier disposition. Old fashioned sense of fashion too – all goblins I recall seeing wore suits ideal for Victorian times.

"Master Goblin, may your gold flow and your enemies die knutless in a ditch." I smiled pleasantly, without showing my teeth – doing so to a goblin you weren't friends with was an offence. Of course, a wizard being a friend with a goblin was generally considered an oxymoron...

"Wizard." The little bastard rolled its beady black eyes at me. "Don't waste my time and gold. What do you want?"

"Legal advise about patents, investment and moving money between the wizarding and muggle worlds."

The little menace frowned at me. He tapped on something out of sight from where I stood, waited a bit, then nodded to himself and finally looked back up at me. Once upon a time, such a disrespect would have been enough reason to kill him just to make a point. At least I didn't have to play the constant dick-measuring game with all the other Sith any more. It was strangely refreshing. Still, the goblin's dismissive attitude bloody gratted.

"Someone will come and collect you soon. Now scamper."

"Good day to you too, Master Goblin." I my smile widened and I showed all my teeth. "May your enemies take all your gold and leave you knutless and forgotten." I cheerfully waved him goodbye, thus earning myself and angry growl.

Five minutes later, another goblin led me deeper in the bank to an office door made of well aged oak if I wasn't mistaken. Father had similar one on his study. I paused with a frown. When did I begin to think of Dimitri's parents as my own? Bloody memories!

I thanked my goblin guide, knocked on the door and entered when someone shouted from inside to do so. I got in and looked around. The office was homely – quite well lit, probably the brightest place I've seen in a Gringotts branch, tastefully decorated in warm brown tones too. There were shelves around the walls covered with leather bound tomes, a large mahogany desk – covered with parchment, writing supplies and a few opened books with yellow aged pages. The goblin behind it sat in a tall leather chair. He was a large, well built male who was another first – he wore a suit that wouldn't have caused someone in the outside world to glance twice at him. It looked comfortable and practical too – not just a show piece, but one you could actually work well in.

"I'm Advocate Sharpclaw, wizard. May you gold multiply and your enemies die screaming." His voice sounded as if he had gravel stuck in his throat.

"Thank you, they're all already dead. I'm Dimitri Veil, from the Noble House of Veil. May your vault never empty and may you forever hear the lamentations of your enemies' mates."

The Advocate nodded and waved me in one of the two armchairs set up in front of his desk. It turned out to be quite comfortable one too.

"What exactly do you need, wizard? It's not often that your kind deigns to do business with the muggle world." Sharpclaw leaned forward.

I could sense a spark of interests among his general disdain of my kind. Even having just the passive emphatic sense that came with the Force was going to be a nice tool all around I reckoned.

I repeated what I told the teller and waited for the goblin.

Sharpclaw stared at me for long moments – his dark eyes might have unnerved a normal wizard, however I've been glared at by multiple members of the Dark Council. This goblin simply wasn't on the same level with those folks.

"It's possible." He eventually nodded.

"How much is filing patents in the muggle world through Gringotts cost me? Retaining advocates to oversee them, perhaps establishing various businesses in the future too?"

"A few patents and short term legal representation you can afford, wizard. The rest..." He shrugged.

It came to no surprise that he already had a vague idea of what I had to my name in their bank, if not exactly how much money I had in my family vault. However, that didn't make me any happier. Unfortunately, for all intents and purposes, the goblins were the only game in town, the monopolizing bastards.

Perhaps I would be doing something about that in the future if they became too big a pain in the posterior.

"Filling two or three patents, short term legal representation and research on how feasible certain ideas are before filling said patents. Let's talk concrete sums."

"The patents themselves – between ten and thirty galleons apiece depending in which country you want them filled in. Legal representation – concerning said patents, five galleons an hour. General representation and legal advise – between ten and fifty galleons per hour depending on what trouble you get yourself into, wizard. As for research – that depends on what exactly you need."

At that rate my liquid assets would evaporate very, very soon. While Dimitri did have a couple of possible jobs lined up – one here in Bulgaria and another back in the UK, they weren't particularly well paid, nor something that I was inclined to waste my time with. Besides, I did need to test my limits... Perhaps the standard plan for getting some liquid assets would work here too, however the patents were first...

Now, I did think about what I could offer without burning through the few galleons I had before heading here. Better materials were probably my best bet to start with if the local tech base was up to it...

I clasped my hands in front of my chest and began speaking.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

 **Advocate Sharpclaw's office**

 **Gringotts**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Nothing is ever simple, not to mention that legal consulting is more expensive than cold blooded robbery.

"For what you want to achieve – aboveboard, you need significantly more galleons than you possess, mr. Veil." Sharpclaw said. "Five to ten thousand at best – if you can gather such funds and prove that your ideas have merit, Gringotts might decide to either invest or at least offer... reasonable loans."

Long story short – for me to really profit from any patents I would want to submit, I would need actual history of creating them – physical proof of working processes, prototypes, laboratory or at least workshop, etc... because the moment I begin reaping any significant profits from the muggle markets, I would have to deal with various ministry officials from the country where I would submit said patents and even if everything would be in order I might need spare cash for bribes.

I gave Sharpclaw a flat look.

"You're from Britain, Mr. Veil, did you really thing that your ministry especially corrupted compared to the rest of them?" The goblin looked back with amused expression on his face.

"Who do I need to see about any legal bounties on people or magical beasts in the region?" I grumbled. It seemed I would be testing both my magic and the Force soon after all.

"You can try getting a honest work." Sharpclaw suggested.

"And spent a few years wasting my time?" I snorted. I certainly didn't have the patience for that. While the jobs Dimitri had lined up were decent – for someone who just graduated with more or less decent grades, the pay really wasn't anything to write home about. If I sold either the villa or the plot of land in the UK and was very careful with my spending I might get five to ten thousand galleons that I would need as a start up capital; in two, probably three years – if I was lucky.

The old fashioned way it was.

Sharpclaw opened his mouth to say something – probably that I was a dumb, young, inexperienced wizard with a death-wish, considering the emotions I got coming from him, but I raised a hand and interrupted him.

"You get twenty percent of any bounties you can send my way, no questions asked. It's my life, Advocate Sharpclaw. Can you help me or not?"

Another starring match ensured. He cursed on his unpronounceable language, shook his head and grinned viciously. "Your funeral, human. Get out of my office and wait in the lobby – someone will give you a list of outstanding bounties, most wanted and what information we have about them. Try not to die before putting some gold in my vault."

"I love you too." I snorted and got out.

The plan was simple – get the list, figure what bounties I could go after, find secluded place to see what I could do with the Force and my magic and once that was done, go hunting and earning money. Once I got some experience with my powers, I might go after the general criminal element and see what liquid assets I could liberate from them.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **The Ugly Witch Tavern**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

I got back to my room a hundred galleons poorer, though I had with me an expanded bag full with parchment – information on what I would need for the various patents I would be pursuing and the bounties and most wanted in Bulgaria and the nearby countries. The first thing I did after getting to the tavern was to pay for one more week, then I got my lunch – beef stew and went to my room to do research.

On the patent front, I decided on battery and biomedical. I would need a proper lab and supplies to run some experiments but thanks to various courses – either survival or sabotage and IED building ones I once ran with various Imperial infantry outfits I had an idea what I would be doing. Using magic and the Force to save time in figuring what would work and what wouldn't would help too. I doubted that the general tech level right now was up to making even cheap knock-offs of proper power cells, however improving battery technology should be doable. As far as medical went, I did have various ideas on that front and at worst I could use my powers to splice some useful plant or increase the usefulness of something already existing.

Again, it would take time and resources. Ideally assistants that would be somewhat trustworthy – probably magical with proper contracts binding them not to fuck up with me and mine.

I put down the legal documentation and summoned the more immediately interesting parchments. What did we have here?

Vampires in Romania – it wasn't explicitly said but the region described sounded suspiciously like Transylvania. Talk about stereotypes...

Next we had a suspected pack of werewolves bothering a Veela sanctuary in the Pirin mountains. Decent pay and possibly grateful Veelas – this one definitely went on the to do list.

A few suspected Death Eaters were wanted alive for questioning – might be worth it to keep my eyes open for those; what was next? A potential hit-man wanted? That one certainly was worth it looking into – though it might be less about capturing him but finding him for his contacts...

A bunch of wizards and witches owing money to various people – with half the list wanted by the goblins. That was all.

I went to eat my lunch while thinking – the Veela's sounded like the best bet. Even if I found no weres or other troublemakers, going to the mountains to test my powers at peace would be worth it. After that I would either take a trip to Romania or shake down the local low criminals – once I pissed them off enough, they would be coming after me and at least for a time spare me the trouble of tracking them down.

The stew was good, the basic plan was done and I went to the closet owl office to send a message to the Veelas. Until I got a response I would have at least this night to plan in some detail what I would be doing in the next few days. I would be hitting some muggle libraries and book stores before I left for the mountains too – I needed books on electronics and batteries for research about the patent issue.


	3. Chapter 2 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Hiking for fun and profit**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **9 January 1986**

 **Pirin mountains**

Charms were an awesome thing – just a few flicks of a wand, a few words on a language that was a bastardized version of ancient Bulgarian, Russian and few other Slavic languages and voilà, I was warm, dry and going to stay that way despite being in the mountains, in the evening in the middle of the bloody winter. My prospective employers were nowhere to be seen yet – along with their affirmative answer about hiring me to solve their suspected were issue, the Veela sent a portkey too – one that delivered me in the middle of a frozen glade. Was there a mess up, were they simple paranoid, which was understandable, or were they just observing me?

A few more casts confirmed that it was likely the latter – I could detect a few monitoring charms and I couldn't feel any imminent danger through the Force, so yay. I looked around and well, there was snow, more snow and a few trees that could barely be seen under said snow.

"Ladies, you might want to come out any time now!" I suggested aloud. I really didn't feel like stumbling through the night searching for the Veela sanctuary – if I had to do it, by the time I located it my mood would be all Sithy and our first encounter would not end well.

There was no answer and so I decided to wait for a bit before apparating away. I cast a few detection charms of my own and let my thoughts drift on what I went over in the last few days.

I thought about various way to acquire funds fast – especially legal or at least mostly legal ones, then about some not so much. Most legal avenues would take too much time. As Sharpclaw pointed out, merely having a few good ideas wouldn't get me loans by itself. There was the option of hiring myself to some research firm, but there were issues with that approach – I lacked the muggle credentials to gain such a position and would have to use magic to get the job. Not a good idea – I knew that sooner than later I would be under tons of scrutiny, both magical and mundane. Fusion, room temperature superconductors and the material science needed to make those would be enough to make me the richest man on the planet. That would immediately gain me tons of enemies, people who would want to see me brought down, not to mention that everyone would put me under a microscope once my patents gained attention. My talks with Sharpclaw all but confirmed what I feared – due to my status as a Half-Blood and minor wizarding nobility from Britain, there was no way around having to deal with various ministries – and apparently all of them were corrupt to one degree or another. Lucky me, most if not all of them apparently had blood bigots in position of power even if their policies usually weren't particularly explicit on paper. We had Gellert Grindelwald to blame for that – when he began to build his army, he searched for those unhappy and outright fucked by the status quo and too many of them were Muggleborn and Half-bloods. While after the war their status actually improved across Europe due to too many purebloods simply dying, the sentiments that led to the blood war in the UK weren't something unique to the British wizarding world.

Such issues could be overcome – with a lot of money for bribes, the correct contacts and potentially an arranged marriage in a prestigious family. Needless to say, I wasn't looking up for the latter. While I've done that in different worlds before, and twice even worked very well, I really didn't feel like taking such a risk again.

I looked around again and stretched my senses through the Force – nothing of note was around. I sighed and went back to my own thoughts.

For a time I did entertain the idea of going to a few casinos and clearing them out using my powers, however I had the foresight to go speak with Sharpclaw again before doing something rash...

" _Mister Veil," The goblin sighed in exasperation. "You would be hard pressed to find a single casino or other gambling establishment that isn't under the aegis of either a magical government or the local wizarding criminal world. Those that weren't got driven out of business by wizards swindling them out of everything a long time ago."_ That was what he told me yesterday morning.

The casino always wins after all, even when we had a hidden magical world. Or perhaps especially when we had a hidden magical world.

They didn't teach us that at Drumstrang Institute and I had to wonder what other inconvenient truths no one bothered to enlighten me about. I thought about what little I remembered about this world from my original one and how that fit with Dimitri's memories. There were inconsistencies, though I wasn't sure if it was because I misremembered or simply put, this world was somewhat different. I could recall the names of the three biggest and most prestigious magical schools in Europe – thanks to that Tri-Wizard mess that might happen in a decade or so. What I couldn't recall was even a mention of other schools – which either weren't supposed to exist or simply weren't mentioned.

Well, Dimitri knew that there were a lot of smaller, often government sponsored schools. The three big ones in Europe took only the richest, most connected or if you were a Muggleborn – the most powerful. They were exclusive, usually had the best teachers in their areas on staff and unless there was some government program helping – bloody expensive. Thinking about it from that light, what Sharpclaw said made more sense – the wizarding world was larger than Dimitri even bothered to think about – that simply wasn't something it ever occurred him to wonder about. That fact only made it more likely that muggle governments were aware of the magic and actually worked to suppress knowledge of it from reaching the average citizen. There was the Cold War going on and I assumed no one wanted to deal with the veil of secrecy shattering under such an environment.

Well, there was a silver lining – once I got a good cash-flow in, there would be a decent number of Muggleborn and Half-bloods who would likely jump at the opportunity of well paid legal work. Besides, all I would require would be a magical contract to ensure the protection of my secrets – which was standard fare for all self-respecting magical businesses.

Getting that initial cash-flow in was the bloody issue. It wasn't like I had a database stuck in my head and I could produce patents on whim without some experimenting, which would require resources and equipment I simply couldn't afford at this time. I couldn't simply conjure or transfigure the machines I would need for said experiments either – I lacked the knowledge about them to do it myself and I was sure there were no existing spells to pull it off – I checked with Sharpclaw about that.

One of the biggest issues was the restricted flow of information due to the planetary data-net being in its infancy. Even something as simple as browsing a database of existing patents and figuring out if there was something really simple I could offer that wouldn't require a significant initial investment would take a lot of resources and time better spent elsewhere.

It was a Catch-22 situation. If I came to this world a few decades ago or just ten to fifteen years in the future and had access to the same amount of meagre resources, I would have been in a much better situation. Right now at the closing years of the Cold War? Practically everything I could offer without obviously cheating with my powers would take a not insignificant amount of resources to do aboveboard.

I shook my head in exasperation and looked around again. No Veela yet. If they didn't appear soon, I was going to apparate to some secluded place in the mountains, test my powers, and go back to Sofia where I would begin to terrorize the local criminal element for their money.

It wasn't until I was about to move away, when something pricked on the edge of my awareness. My head snapped to the right and I had my wand in a loose grip pointing in the same direction. A moment later a soft pop sounded over the quiet glade and two figures appeared from thin air.

Neat – it was nice to know that if I paid attention I would get a split second warning about people apparating near me.

Despite the low light – coming just from the stars and the slice of the moon that was visible, I could see that the newcomers were female. They wore thick green robes that made their hair stand out – it cascaded over their shoulders like a silver waterfall.

Something caressed my mental defences – both Occlumency and Force based. It was an echo of desire and overwhelming need to please them... I narrowed my eyes at the females who just began to approach slowly. So this was their infamous allure. I called my power with a thought and the Force surged through me. Just a touch of the Dark Side was more than enough to fortify my mind against the level of influence coming from the females. The big question was if that was just their power when they weren't bothering to rein it in or were they testing me with a concentrated push. I hoped for the later.

"Ladies, it's nice for you to finally grace me with your presence." I gave them a small bow without taking away my eyes from their approaching forms, nor did I lower my wand. "Dimitri Veil at your services. I understand you have some unrequited fans pestering you?"

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

 **9 January 1986**

 **Veela sanctuary**

 **Pirin Mountains**

As it turned out, not becoming a slobbering imbecile the moment the Veelas brushed their allure against me, won me a few points in their book. I've seen some of the most beautiful creatures that whole galaxies had to offer, yet I could honestly say that my hosts' supernatural beauty was contender for the top spots. Said looks were also the primary reason why full blooded Veela usually lived in sanctuaries set up away from populated centres. There were a lot of people who would pay a top galleon for playthings with such looks. What's more, while Veelas were magical creatures, their magical abilities were limited – that was the primary reason why many of them looked for wizard mates. Their female children would be a Half-Veela and have a wizard's magic to back up their mother's heritage. Incidentally, considering that full blooded Veelas were all female, they went after muggle men if they wanted to continue their kind, which was how a lot of legends about nymphs, Veelas and such creatures began, but I digress.

A Pureblood Veela had her allure – which was very strong as well as her transformation that allowed her to throw fireballs at people. Unless she had access to some kind of enchanted weapon, that was it. While not to be underestimated, a competent wizard or witch who knew what they were doing could deal with the fire and all that was required to counter the allure was either good grasp of Occlumency, some kind of natural resistance or certain potions. With the proper preparation, while not trivial, it was very much possible to kidnap Veelas while suffering an acceptable risk, which was one of the reason why wizards were preferred husbands for their kind – not only Half-Veelas could use wand magic, they enjoyed a much broader legal protection in most countries. France and Bulgaria were among the exceptions of the rule – two of a handful of places that had their ministries count them as people and not magical creatures. Still, while legally they did have the same rights, in practice that was not always the case. There was a reason why I was here to solve their problem instead a group of Bulgarian Aurors.

After a brief chat and a vow not to harm them unless provoked bound by the older of the pair, my hosts led me into their sanctuary – which was a bloody medieval castle protected by some admirable charms. I couldn't even see the place until we got just a few hundred meters from it, though I could feel it and the presence of people inside thanks to the Force.

That begged the question, with this as a sanctuary, how exactly a bunch of weres were a problem?

My hosts led me to a small, well furnitures office on the second floor where I met my employer – an older woman who was among the most beautiful females that I've seen and that wasn't because of her allure. High aristocratic cheekbones, perfectly symmetric face, lips made for kissing, large expressive eyes that looked like could stare right in my soul. Her hair was shining gold fountain shimmering with magic... I bit the inside of my cheek and delved deeper in the Dark Side.

The woman's looks didn't change and I was pretty sure this was how she really looked – she needed no allure to turn a man into a horny wreck. The fact that I was stuck in an eighteen years old body, just going on nineteen, didn't really help me in the hormone department.

The Dark Side however did it – the chill that came with channelling her power acted as a sorely needed cold shower.

"Thank you, Viara, Maria, please leave us, ladies." She smiled gently at the women who led me here. Her voice... let's just say that it should be illegal and leave it at that.

They bobbed their heads in a fashion that reminded me of birds and got out, closing the door behind us.

"I'm Irina Petrova, Mr Veil, the leader of this sanctuary. Please take a seat." She said in an amused tone, before gliding into a comfortable looking armchair that stood behind her desk.

It was just now that I noticed the two chairs waiting for me. That was bloody sloppy. I wasn't a love struck teenager, damn it!

The cold embrace of the Dark Side settled over me and I bit off a sigh of relief. Irina was possibly the most beautiful human appearing woman I've ever seen. Small wonder that there would be all sorts of people sniffing around this sanctuary if the three Veela's I saw so far were representative of the rest of them.

"Ms Petrova, is there a good reason why there isn't an Auror unit here investigating?" I asked and nodded her way. "One would think that there would be a lot of Aurors, both male and female that would be eager to help if for nothing else to make a good impression."

Like all unattached and most attached Aurors who believe they might get away with it without getting neutered by their spouses.

Irina raised delicate eyebrow and graced me with a small, pleased smile that made me feel warm inside despite the bone deep chill of the Dark Side.

Focus.

"Officially – there aren't any available when we call. Or there's no real threat to our well being that would warrant deployment." She smiled wanly in a way that told me that giving her a comforting hug would be a great idea.

"Who did you piss off?" I ignored the fuzzy feeling fighting with my control. This woman... I shook my head. I haven't felt that way since my second year as Baras' Apprentice when I had to work with that delectable Sith on Balmora and she had to use her mastery over the Force to test my control in such a way...

Here and now? There was no active magic coming from Irina that I could detect, nor could I sense such shenanigans through the Force. This was just Irina and her natural or should I say, supernatural presence.

The Veela pouted cutely, the bloody minx, which made her look sickeningly adorable.

"One of our esteemed minister's largest backers." She sighed sadly and slumped back in her chair looking vulnerable and in need of protection.

Damn, she was good, I had to give her that.

"You don't have them both tied around your little finger because?" I deadpanned using a supreme effort of willpower.

Irina suddenly straightened up and looked serious. It appeared that I just passed another test – which all things considered might not be such a good thing.

"I'm a Veela, we're sexual creatures as you've no doubt notices." For a split second her eyes went towards my groin before fixing me with a dazzling stare.

Oh, I did notice. In totally unrelated news, my underwear felt too snug and stifling tonight.

"It is expected that we indulge our needs in exchange for the odd favour and consideration." Irina's posture shifted. The sense of her presence changed into something predatory. When she leaned forward it was like a large bird of prey examining me. "What he wants is something I can not give." The Veela hissed.

Providing that she wasn't playing me, more than I knew she was anyway... A sadist perhaps? Did he want to use her in some kind of ritual if he wasn't? While this offered an opportunity, I really wasn't looking for governmental entanglements at this stage. On the other hand, if I either got my hands on some nice blackmail material or played a hand in the rise of the next Bulgarian Minister of Magic...

This begged the question, did I want to involve myself beyond the immediate issue? If it was to Dimitri, the answer would be yes, though he would have been like an eager puppy ready to do whatever Irina wanted. While his, now mine or perhaps ours Occlumency was decent-ish, it was far from enough to handle this woman and I was pretty sure that right now she had her allure under iron control.

"I see." I eventually said. "This isn't why I'm here. Please enlighten me about your more immediate troubles."

Why did I have the feeling that the were issue wasn't just because a bunch of wolves who came here for a bit of fun and profit?

"There are at least ten of them probing the protections. They've taken measures to deal with our allure and fire. We have only a handful of Half-Veela who can use your kind of magic and they simply aren't enough to go out and deal with them. I'm afraid that they're here both as a message and to prepare the ground for a raid upon this sanctuary."

Yeah. So much for avoiding various entanglements.

"Let's talk price and who exactly I'll be pissing off if I help you."

Irina beamed at me and her expression sent my heart racing.

This was a bad, bad idea, yet I was looking up for the challenge. Was it me or what was left of Dimitri? He always wanted to prove himself and resented the fact that while he did very well academically, he was otherwise an average wizard.


	4. Chapter 2 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Hiking for fun and profit**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **10 January 1986**

 **Pirin Mountains**

With the Force, finding the general location of the only other people in this part of the mountains was simple. Apparating to a few kilometres away from them – not so much, but it was still doable. First I had to cast upon myself all the silencing and concealment charms I could think of, then I apparated straight up in the air and while falling down, enchanted myself to slow my falling and the apparated a few more times within my line of sight until reaching the ground. I had to repeat the exercise a few times before I got near enough to my quarries that I didn't dare to apparate any closer. At that point, I refreshed my concealment spells before surrounding myself with the Force and practically melding in the night's shadows.

It took me couple of hours to actually reach the werewolf camp and if it wasn't for sensing it through the Force, I would have missed it – it was covered by some very potent notice-me-not charms. Probably others were meant to repel muggles and any wildlife crazy enough to be awake and outside in this weather. The only other defences I could detect were meant to warn if anyone approached and I was pretty sure that there was an anti-apparation jinx covering the small clearing where the weres were camping.

Through the Force I could feel them – six of them were in their tents, sleeping, with three more smoked around a fire where they were cooking a large chunk of venison. None of them gave any indication they knew something was wrong so this was either a trap or I was about to catch them all with their pants down. I was convinced that sooner or later I would run against someone or something that could counter the Force, for all I knew, there were already charms and enchantments that could do it by accident – it wasn't like I was familiar with more than a fraction of the existing spells. However, until that moment came, I was going to enjoy every advantage that being an OCP could offer me.

Now, how to approach this... Three tents, all of them occupied – one had three people, another two and the last just a lonesome were. If they were werewolves – it wasn't as if it was obvious from where I stood and the next full moon was a few weeks away. Nevertheless, I should take into account that their senses and reactions might be better than baseline humans.

I opened myself fully to the Force; power surged through my veins strengthening my body, enhancing my speed and reaction time. My senses sharpened and I looked at the world through my power. I could actually see a bright blue haze around the wizards and their tents as well all over the clearing. I wasn't sure how much the Force could interact with magic, however I could perceive it through it. That in turn meant that magic could potentially influence or counter my other power...

I paused and looked at the tents. They were wizarding ones so enchanted all right – expansion and warming ones at the very least. Possibly a limited notice-me-not, perhaps unbreakable to avoid accidents... No matter. First I would be taking out the awake people, only then I would worry about the rest.

I looked at the ground and the snow was no barrier for the Force. There were twigs and small stones all over the place.

Excellent. Using telekinesis I picked up a bunch of them and waved my wand whispering a spell. A muted flash of light later, I had over thirty thin needle sharp silver spikes floating in front of me. The weres were just beginning to react when I used both the Force and a banishing charm to hurl my improvised weapons at them. Only one was fast and aware enough to jump to the ground and avoid becoming a human pincushion. He just got his wand out when I grabbed him in a telekinetic grip and sent a piercing hex in between his eyes.

Three were down and only one of the sleeping ones stirred – the man closest to where they stood before they died. Did the fools charm their tents to keep sound away too!?

Their funeral. When the newly awake supposed wolf opened the tent's door I greeted him with a cutting curse that left him missing his head. The others didn't fare better – for Merlin's sake, I was able to just open the doors – granted I used the arm of one of the corpses that I controlled telekinetically just in case there was a last ditch defence I missed, but nothing happened – the door opened and I entered after summoning three of the silver spikes, which I used to murder four more people in their sleep.

This was all too easy. Were those amateurs, just terribly unlucky or was this the average level of criminals and mercenaries around these parts? I had to remind myself not to overestimate my future opponents. For all I knew, these were the lowest of the dregs. Besides, I did leave one awake for interrogation. That sorry bastard slept through the whole sordid affair so far and – not surprising given he snored almost loud enough to awake the dead.

I cast an anti-apparation and anti-portkey charms over the tent – something that I Dimitri go taught on the sly at Drumstrang, and used conjured chains to bind him in place, then summoned his wand before he could awake.

"Good morning!" I greeted cheerfully.

"Wut!" The man babbled. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties, though his hair was already greying and looked gaunt – all signs that he might be a were. Their kind did age prematurely due to the strain each transformation put upon their bodies.

"Be a good doggie and answer a few questions." It was too bad – for him that I didn't have truth serum nor was I particularly good with Legilimency, though the latter was a moot point – using it on wolves wasn't healthy. Obviously I had no idea what would happen when I tried to do the same with the Force, besides the obvious – that it would be destructive upon his mind.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing!?" The man spat in my native language – one I haven't really spoken for centuries until I awoke in that alley.

"Asking questions. Duh. Who sent you here and why?" I asked with a voice thick with the Force and got a snarl for my troubles. His brown eyes bled into yellow colour too. So his wolf was going to cause problems... "Bad doggie!" I waved a finger in front of his face before giving him a dose of Sith lighting and then asked again.

"Stephan Ivanov! I don't know who he works for!" The man shook in his bonds and stared wide-eyes at the smoke rising from his body. I wondered which was worse – Sith lighting or the Crucio. One of these days someone was going to piss me off enough to warrant some experimentation.

"Stephan Ivanov." I repeated. "Why did he sent you here and where can I find him?"

The man blanched and shook his head in fear. There was clear disbelief on his face at what he just told me. It sounded like the truth too.

"You don't have to worry about what he or his boss can do to you. They aren't here, I am." I smiled and levelled my left hand at him. Lighting danced between my fingers then I gave him another dose. The part of me that used to be Dimitri recoiled at how enjoyable I found torturing a man. Once upon a time I would have blamed the Dark Side about that, however she had been my constant companion for so long that I doubted it really mattered any longer.

"The bitches!" He spat. "We're here to grab a few of them if we can and scout their defences!"

"Good man." I spoke softly. "Now where can I find this Ivanov fellow? Does your group has any easy to access stash for rainy day that isn't in Gringotts?" I added absent-mindedly.

The wolf sang like a canary. He was a part of a small pack – with only their leader missing because tonight he was back in a bar in Sofia to report to Ivanov about their progress and wasn't expected until sometime in the morning. They had a stash in the alpha's house and that was the last useful thing he knew.

"You were a great help, my friend." I nodded at my captive, summoned what money he had on his person and called upon the Dark Side. Under my will a pitch black spear of pure Dark Side energy formed above the bound man and it took just a thought to slam it in his body. He screamed one last time as the corrupting energy ate his flesh until there was nothing left. I proceeded to loot the camp, dispose of the bodies and then did my best to cover my tracks – while no one might miss this pack, better safe than sorry.

Once that was done, I had a decision to make – I could either report to the Veelas or apparate to Sofia and get myself further involved in this mess. The potential reward was high – blackmail material on the current minister and one of his biggest backers, potentially the option to play kingmaker with his successor or on the downside – I could get a lot of people after my head. Should I cut my looses here and now? I knew what was the safe course of action – wait for the alpha, dispose of him and disappear. Then again, I did tell the Veela's my real name – this whole thing was supposed to be aboveboard after all.

Decisions, decisions...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 **10 January 1986**

 **Veela Sanctuary**

 **Pirin mountains**

It was early in the morning with dawn fast approaching when I got back to the sanctuary and led to Petrova's office. When she met me, Irina had a dazzling smile in place that did its best to make me all gooey inside, however I could feel her surprise through my emphatic sense – even if none of it could be seen in her expression nor in the way she acted.

"Mr Veil, back so soon? Did you miss us that much?" The Veela purred.

"The werewolves won't bother you any more. Only their alpha is left and he's supposed to be in a bar in Sofia." I cut to the heart of the matter. "He's there to meet a Stephan Ivanov – the man who did the actual hiring. You were spot on about their intentions – they were to capture a few of you people if practical and scout the magics protecting this place." I reported.

Petrova grimaced. "Ivanov." She hissed. "That's a hated name. He is a vampire acting as go between for various people who need to be seen keeping their hands clean." As she spoke, Irina looked more like an angry raptor than a gorgeous woman, yet she didn't shift even partially in her alternate form.

I probably could end things here and now – perhaps only going after the wolves' alpha – Ivailo Kolev. That could be the end of it as far as I was concerned. On the other hand... The only thing keeping my sense of pride and accomplishment over tonight's hike in the woods was my iron control and the Dark Side. It was becoming obvious that there was a bit more left in me from Dimitri than I assumed - that could be troublesome as it often was the case when I ended up merging with someone when I was sent to another dimension.

I could see the benefits of stepping away while the going was good – I wasn't looking up for the political entanglements. If things went really wrong, my plans would go down the drain and I would have to put my long overdue vacation on indefinite hold. However, the benefits of success were damn tempting too – what I intended to do would be shattering the status quo in the years to come and earn me a lot of enemies. Getting myself some cover from a magical government until I could stand up on my own two legs politically would be invaluable. Unless my actions somehow butterflied the fall of the Soviet Union, I would be moving to more or less buy myself an Eastern European country to get access to more stable legal and international cover in the Muggle world as well. Or perhaps... An idea struck me, however it was a particularly crazy one. If it worked, the benefits would be incredible, however if it backfired I would be in tons of trouble.

"Mr Veil!" Petrova snapped me out of my thoughts.

"I'm listening now, Ma'am. I was merely wondering if it was worth the risk to help you deal with the source of your troubles." I looked up at the Veela, who had an angry scowl on her face – which somehow made her look even more irresistible. Small wonder most women loathed her kind. Even with magic cosmetics, there were precious few witches that could even hope to compete in the looks' department. Then there was the fact that Veelas were _sexual_ creatures...

Down boy, I chided myself.

"Oh, you would be willing to help us further?" Irina bathed her eyelashes at me and smiled. She leaned forward and once again her presence changed – she radiated enough lust and desire to make even a gay interested and I was still sure she kept her allure at bay!

"Let's talk price and information. I'll need to know what I would get out of this arrangement and everything you know about the Minister and his naughty backers." I smirked. "As well as possible successors that might be willing to step in."

"I'm sure we may make up to your troubles." Irina winked. Her smoky eyes held all kinds of wicked promises.

"While I won't say no to a bonus so to speak, I'm in a need of a lot of galleons. What can you afford to make this problem go away?" I countered. I needed a cold shower, Merlin damn it!

"You are no fun." Petrova pouted. She shook her head making her golden hair cascade like a waterfall over her ethereal form and became serious. "Two thousand galleons if you succeed – we simply can't go any higher in the money department. We will be very grateful as well."

The way she stressed grateful made a certain part of my anatomy stiffen harder than a rock. Yeah – I was up for a cold shower and blue balls tonight.

"Good enough." I would be looting everything I could while dealing with this issue anyway. While strictly speaking the money weren't enough for what I was about to do – the other benefits could be worth it and I wasn't necessary thinking about a lot of grateful Veelas. In fact I was very hard trying not to think about that particular distraction. "Now, please enlighten me about your resident troublemaker."

Petrova fell back in her armchair and frowned. She no longer radiated sex and desire when she began to speak in clipped tone. "Ilia Gorski," She spat the name. "He is the head of one of the oldest wizard families in Bulgaria and more importantly one of the few that survived Grindelwald's war more or less intact. He is quite powerful wizard, however what makes him dangerous is the fact that he is a ruthless vicious bastard who has tons of money and connections with Minister Kniajev. Gorski financed his election campaign, spent a small fortune on bribes and a bigger one on gaining blackmail material and smear campaigns. He is also a sadistic bastard!" Irina growled.

That sounded like a useful fellow to know – also as someone who could gleefully become a problem once I began my rise in society, especially if I kept my businesses away from the UK – which could be prudent considering that once I got myself Harry as an apprentice, Britain could become quite unfriendly to me and my interests. With the Soviet Union likely to fall apart in a few years, there would be great opportunities in Eastern Europe – both in the magical and mundane worlds. All of that meant that having a stable foothold with the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic could be invaluable.

While Irina continued to tell me what else she knew about Gorski and Minister Kniajev, I began plotting. Find the pack's alpha and Ivanov – interrogate them. Then get in contact with one of Kniajev's political opponents who got a decent shot at becoming the next minister... I smiled. It's been a long time since I've put to use the skills I earned while working for Imperial Intelligence...

"As far as viable candidates to replace Kniajev go..." Irina paused and thought about it. "The best bet might be Lady Sylvia Varshenska. She is the head of another old family that emerged from the war reasonably intact. Old money that she and her father and grandfather before them did their best to invest wisely and were quite successful at least until the war happened. She has the station, backing and public support to become the next Minister if Gorski ceases to be a factor. It would be even better if some of Kniajev's illicit dealings become public."

"Can you arrange a meeting with Lady Varshenska in couple of days? Can you provide me with some Veritaserum as well?" That would make interrogation much easier if I knew the right questions to ask.

"I'm confident that I can get you an audience with Lady Varshenska. As far as the truth serum go... Maria is a good friend with a certain potions master. If he has some available we can get it to you in a few hours. If not – he'll know how to procure some or brew it, though the latter will take time as you well know."

"Excellent." I stood up. "Please make the arrangements and get the serum to my room at the Ugly Witch Tavern in Sofia. I have a few people to locate."

And a cold shower to take before something broke.


	5. Chapter 3 Parts 1&2

**AN: The story will build up a bit more slowly than I originally foresaw – some world building and making Veil's rise to a position where he might plausibly get away with taking Harry as an apprentice kinda require it.**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Veil, Dimitri Veil**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **10 January 1986**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

By the time I got back to Sofia, it was well past dawn. That meant any chance of tracking the vampire Ivanov had to wait for tonight. On the bright side, by then I would know if the Veelas could arrange for Veritaserum on short notice and meanwhile, I did have an alpha wolf to find. That's why once Irina told me what she knew, a cold shower at the tavern where I was staying and an hour of meditation to centre myself after the experience that was Irina Petrova's mere presence, I went to the seedier part of Sofia's magic district.

To the Muggle world, the whole place looked like a part of industrial zone closed off for renovation. Naturally no one seemed to notice that this has been the case for more than forty years – ever since a large chunk of the quarter had to be rebuild after it ran afoul of a strategic bomber raid upon the capital during WWII. After I walked through the powerful charms concealing the wizarding world from the rest of Sofia, it was like entering a whole new world. Even on this side of the quarter – close to the seedier part and despite the freezing weather, the streets were more or less packet. All kinds of pedlers offered their goods on stalls – from curious trinkets to supposedly useful magic amulets. Close by various shops offered more respectable and reliable merchandise from all over the world. Expensive flying carpets from Persia were proudly displayed next to the newest racing brooms; across the street a menagerie offered exotic pets from all over the worlds. A street vendor offered hot snacks and hotter coffee to chase away the morning chill.

When all was said and done, today the place felt much more alive than when I first awoke – probably everyone had finally recovered and returned from their vacations celebrating the dawn of a new year.

The crowds worked in my favour – I was just another ordinary face among many and I didn't use just my obscurity as protection – I had layered glamours and notice-me-not charms upon myself before transfiguring my robes in something a Sith would cheerfully wear. It was too bad that I lacked the funds to get myself proper armoured clothing, preferably made of something magic resistant. I would have to invest in some sooner rather than later. Speaking about protection – that was something that I would have to dedicate a lot of time and thought on. Even a cursory look through what the goblins provided and the books I managed to pick up from shops and libraries before my first meeting with the Veelas made a few things painfully obvious – the moment I got a superconductor on the market – which was going to be one of the first big things I would be working on, everyone having a stake in coal, oil and natural gas extraction, refinement and sale would be after me trying to either buy me off, discredit or outright kill me – from corporations, to whole countries. That trend would only get worse the moment I got a working fusion reactor prototype.

Inevitably there was going to be a transition period between my name becoming known and thus painting a huge target on my back and me becoming too big and powerful to easily deal with. At worst – bribes and lobbying might even curtail the spread of what I could offer in the west. That in fact was one of the reasons why I was so willing to get my hands dirty and help the Veelas – having the backing of the next Bulgarian Minister of Magic would help. Even if my fears turned to be unfounded, when the Soviet Union's economy melted and it started to fall apart, there would be great opportunities in Eastern Europe. If anything my technologies would make the Soviet's economy suffer in the short term all but guaranteeing its crash.

When that happened, having the backing of the largest and most powerful Ministry of Magic in the region would be a great boon. That would be even more critical if various corporate and government interest prevented my expansion in the business world in the west – in which case I intended to make the future Russian Federation and perhaps the Chinese very happy. Besides, after a cursory look over the various natural resources available on Earth told me that those two countries had the lion's share of various rare elements that I would need for the technology my knowledge would make possible.

All that however was something that I would worry about at a latter date. First things first, I had to set up the stage just right to facilitate a change of government.

Finally, I found the bar the were I interrogated spoke of. The Fey's Delight. It was housed in a nondescript building layered with some impressive enchantments. If my guess was right, their primary purpose was to facilitate the anonymity of the clients.

There was a large bouncer leaning on the wall beside a wrought iron door. By the looks of him, there was a touch of something non-human in his ancestry. First – he felt a bit off, darker. Second, the shape of his face might have been nothing to look twice at in the galaxy at large, however he couldn't show it outside of a magic area without being noticed. If I didn't know better, he had a part Orc – who to my knowledge didn't exist outside of fiction in this world or perhaps a touch of troll blood. While the latter was possible, I didn't want to think about the logistics of how that could have happened.

Did I mention that the man even hunched was over two meters tall grumpy mountain of muscle?

As I approached I let the notice-me-not fall and took a hold over the Dark Side. It was easy to surround myself with its touch chilling the air around me even more than the early January morning already did. The space surrounding me became darker as shadows gathered around me giving me a sinister appearance.

I glared at the bouncer and inclined my head towards the door. He removed his great bulk from the wall and studied me through narrowed eyes.

Ever since Irina began explaining the situation in earnest this morning, I had to think how to play this. In the end, the answer was obvious, even if it would make the whole affair even more dangerous. I needed to gain a reputation in both the magical and mundane worlds as someone not to be fucked with, while when possible striking just on the right side of the law. Gaining a lot of enemies was inevitable given my plans and I might begin laying the foundations for dealing with them from the very beginning.

Besides, after so long spent as a Sith, some things just came naturally...

The bouncer eventually nodded with a hint of respect – that wasn't entirely for show and opened the door. I nodded back and walked inside.

It was show time.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **AN: About the magic skills of werewolves shown in this story so far, including this chapter. Lupin is an outliner. There are only a handful of werewolves in the world who had access to education and friends willing to help train them that could even come close to what he got in Hogwarts and later along with the Marauders during the war. What makes most werewolves dangerous to the average wizard and witch is that they're stronger, a bit faster and harder to damage than ordinary people and even when not under the effect of the full moon if they can get their hands on you its usually game over. When transformed – then they're hard to put down. If they used the Wolfsbane potion and decided to go after you, that only makes them even more dangerous.**

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

 **10 January 1986**

 **The Fey's Delight bar**

 **Wizard Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

As far as seedy watering holes went, the Fey's Delight was one of the more decent ones Ignatius Vance had visited during his long and illustrious career as a soldier of fortune. It was discrete, affordable and you didn't have to fear what you might catch by just entering, sitting at the bar and ordering your poison of choice. The mercenary nursed a tall glass with frosty Finish vodka – something he got a taste for during Grindelwald's war, shortly after he got kicked out of the family for falling in love with a Muggleborn girl. That though made him smile – both because of the pleasant memories of his short time with Eleanor before she died during the Blitz and the sheer irony of it. From what he heard through his contacts back home, after Voldemort's little temper tantrum, what was left of his House sang a different tune. He even heard whispers that his nephew married a Muggleborn witch a few years back – to either celebrate the end of the Blood "War" or make a public statement on where the Ancient House of Vance stood nowadays.

Incidentally, any such changes didn't extend to the likes of Ignatius – he remained disowned and the black sheep of the family no one wanted to admit existed.

Vance drank from his cup and relished the fiery sensation the alcohol produced as it slid down his throat. That was exactly what the doctor prescribed for a weather like the one outside. He looked around for threats – as it became his second nature a few decades ago. From the corned seat at the bar, Ignatius could see most of the large room. The place was mostly empty at this early hour – all vampires were back safely in their lairs and most of the regular patrons were either back home nursing hangovers or the lucky ones were out to work. Here and there Vance saw a few small groups of cut-throats drinking away their ill-gotten money, a bunch of weres out for a late lunch and pint of beer and the odd dark wizard out for a drink where they wouldn't be disturbed.

At least that the uninitiated would see. One group of small time thieves were exactly what they appeared to be; the rest, not so much. The werewolves were representatives of a mercenary group looking for new recruits, though unfortunately for Vance's prospects that bunch took in only their kind. Their reputation was good enough for him to not think twice about joining them for a few jobs or a longer stint, however with their recruiting policies being what they were that was out of the question. Rumour had it that one of the reasons they were here today was to meet the alpha of a pack that was currently busy with something in the nearby mountains.

Half the "dark" wizards were here on business or looking for someone to hire them, though there were at least a few who simply wanted a quiet place to get a bite to eat and something to drink. Ever since Grindelwald's war and later, Voldemort's shenanigans and the troubles his followers caused all over the continent, being a Dark Wizard was frowned upon more than usual. While there wasn't legal discrimination – yet, at least on the continent, Aurors tended to look in the affairs of darker wizards and witches more and more often. They certainly took a much less interest in those who were supposedly aligned with the lighter side of magic... which was somewhat logical if depressing. When all was said and done, while Dark Wizards were not universally rotten, more Dark Lords and other troublesome people came from their ranks than from any other group.

If he was an Auror, Vance would watch any Dark Wizards in his general vicinity like a hawk on a general principle too! However, being dark aligned himself, he didn't have to like the current state of affairs!

He took another sip of his drink and studied the occupants of the bar more carefully. While Ignatius did have a nice nest egg saved away and enough spare galleons not to touch it for the next few weeks, he was in fact in a need of work. After his last job went to hell in a hand-basket – who thought smuggling Nundus of all things was a good idea, Vance needed some downtime to soothe his nerves and recover after one of the beasts managed to took a swipe at him with its claws. Fortunately he got away with just a shredded side and didn't get any of the beast's poison. It did help that the pair of infernal cats were barely adolescent. If just one of them was older, none of the wizards providing security detail for that smuggler would have made it away. As it was, only Vance and a just one more mercenary made it away before a small army of German Aurors descended upon their hidey-hole.

Ignatius had to spent more than half of the generous down-payment for the job on fixing his ribs and his muscles on the right side of his chest were still tender and weaker than they were supposed to be.

That was the real reason why he was at this bar, this early in the morning. Besides all other things that the Fay's Delight offered – like the classy whorehouse that took the second floor of the building, it was a known watering hole for mercenaries from all over Europe as well as the people who found themselves in need of their services. Some jobs that could be found here were even on the right side of the law and more importantly – almost always legitimate enough to get paid if you succeeded.

Quiet music and privacy charms etched in all tables and the walls helped ensure that what was said in this place remained confidential – though everyone with a two working braincells to rub together would put their own charms to ensure their privacy. One couldn't be too secure or paranoid after all.

Vance was wondering how discerning he could afford to be over his next job when the door opened and a figure shrouded by shadows walked in as if it owned the place... which might have been true even. No one was really sure who was the proprietor behind the bar – according to rumour it was a reclusive Romanian vampire. The newcomer looked around without slowing down and walked to the bar, right in front of the barman – a half-giant with a mellow temper and mean right hook that could easily take off someone's head – literally. Ignatius saw that happen couple of years ago when Theodor – the barman, was still new to the job. A bunch of drunken fools decided that starting a bar fight would be a great idea in a place crawling up with all kinds of mercenaries and dark wizards; the results were predictably gruesome.

"Vodka, drinkable." The shadows around the newcomer subdued and Vance could see his clothing – it was some kind of armoured robes that at a glance looked practical enough to imply that they weren't just for show. The man had a galleon he played with, which got Theodor's attention.

"Here." The barman retrieved the bottle of Finish vodka Ignatius got his own drink from and poured a glass to the stranger. "Would you want anything else?"

"Ivailo Kolev – an alpha werewolf. He was here last night." The man looked around and only now Vance saw that he had a strange metal mask covering his face. The stranger raised his right hand and offered the galleon to Theodor for closer inspection.

"Might have been." The barman shrugged. "There were a lot of people here last night. Why do you want him?"

"To offer my condolences. His pack suffered and accident last night."

Ignatius raised an eyebrow at that answer, then frowned. He shouldn't be able to hear what they were talking about – the security charms in the bar were too good for that... unless the stranger wanted to be heard. Vance's head snapped around and sure – everyone in the bar was looking at the newcomer. Merlin's balls, it was too early for any trouble, especially when he wasn't getting paid to be anywhere near it!

"What kind of accident?" One of the werewolves at the far end of the bar asked aloud.

"My kind. What is it to you?" The stranger spoke without looking at the wolves. "I've been to places like these more than enough times before. The odds of no one knowing where Kolev should be are remote. The first to speak gets a few galleons and my gratitude."

Whelp, this was going to get ugly. Ignatius sighed and drained his glass while he still could. What was with dark lord wannabes and causing trouble?

"You're not welcome here." The leader of the wolves growled and got up.

"That's not up to you, dog." The stranger had his glass in his right hand and when he raised his left, it was obvious to everyone he didn't have his wand out. Nevertheless, the werewolf grasped his throat and began to choke. A heartbeat later he was hauled off his feet by invisible strings.

Vance blinked at what was seeing, suddenly on edge. This kind of wandless magic... there were perhaps a dozen or so people on the face of the Earth who could pull off something like this. The power, control and time that it took to master it were tremendous.

"I'll repeat myself only once, gentlemen. Ivailo Kolev." The man spoke calmly, unfazed that the werewolf's buddies all got up and levelled their wands at him.

The rest of the patrons just warily watched the show ready to either get out-of-the-way or intervene if they deemed it prudent. However, for the time being all of them were more interested in seeing where this would go.

The four wolves acted almost as one and four spells flew at the stranger – a red stunner, two cutting curses and a Bombarda. Vance's own wand was already out and he had a shield in front of him before he could properly get away from his stool and move back so he would have space to manoeuvre.

An empty table and the chairs surrounding it that were between the stranger and the wolves suddenly shot in the air and intercepted the spell-fire. Wood shattered then flew at the weres. Two of them jumped away, while their friends stood firm and cast a banisher and vanishing spell to protect their leader. The later did help – some – by removing a large chunk of the splintered table. The banisher merely slowed down part of the debris and shattered some more damaged ones before they slammed into the trio.

Werewolves were usually more sturdy build than ordinary people and even if their curse took a toll upon them with every change, they were still somewhat harder to hurt, especially physically. However, the shower of wood was more than enough to distract them and batter away the wand of one.

The glass that the stranger held followed suit a moment later – he hurled it with enough force that when it hit almost all the alcohol was still inside. It also flew fast enough that the sturdy glass it was made of shattered on the forehead of the werewolf that he was still choking wandlessly. The pair that avoided the shower of splintered wood was already off the ground and busy casting along with their friend who retained his focus. For all the good it did them... The powerful Dark Wizard – for he couldn't be anything else, didn't even deign to draw his wand – which was prudent if his mastery of wandless magic was anything to go by – the wand could be recognized but he could have been anyone under those robes.

What happened next, shocked Vance. The stranger nimbly avoided a spell by simply sidestepping it, blocked another two by wandlessly levitating another chair and then effortlessly picked up the pair that just got up and slammed them in the ceiling hard enough to crack it. He was sure that at least one of those broke his neck from the impact.

Meanwhile, the only werewolf who still had a wand and was able to use it sent a chain of piecing hexes and bone-breaking curses that forced Theodor to dive behind the counter but otherwise missed their intended target. Two got blocked by wandlessly levitated pieces of furniture and the rest simply avoided.

The Dark Wizard made a grasping motion with his right hand and the wolf flinging spells at him shouted when his wand hand shattered along with his wand as if a giant squeezed them. The last werewolf still on his feet managed to retrieve his wand and point it towards the stranger only to freeze for a split second in shock. Vance couldn't really blame him for that – the stranger moved in a blur with a speed rivalling a vampire, thus proving that either he had undergone certain rituals that were highly illegal in most civilized countries or one of his parents had done something similar to grant their offspring one of the most notable traits of the undead.

In the next few seconds, the Dark Wizard proceeded to take apart the werewolf in hand to hand combat – something that he already proved he didn't have to do. This was all a show then or rather a statement. There was a new player making himself known and Vance could only hope he wasn't going to be anther Grindelwald or Voldemort.


	6. Chapter 3 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Veil, Dimitri Veil**

 ** **=TSA=****

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **10 January 1986**

 **The Fey's Delight bar**

 **Wizard Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

"Gentlemen, I won't repeat myself a third time." The stranger's voice became hard.

The temperature in the bar dropped like a rock and suddenly everyone could see their breath coming out as streams of vapour. All the shadows in the large open space heightened and deepened as if taking lives of their own. Whatever the stranger was doing it felt familiar, almost comforting. It was not so different from an unleashed aura of Dark Magic and it called to every dark wizard and creature that could sense it.

If Vance had any doubts before this display dispelled them. This was a Dark Wizard all right. Possibly a Dark Lord – the real deal at that! Ignatius fought against the last two and their crazy agenda. Would he have to raise his wand against a third? After the display he witnessed, prayed to Merlin he wouldn't have to without an army at his back, preferably with another one between him and the Dark Wizard, who was likely running out of patience.

"Ahem..." A deep voice rumbled from the door.

The spell was broken and everyone looked that way to see the large bouncer – Igor, look at the devastation and wince.

"I'll just throw away the trash if that's all right." He waved at the werewolves and grinned showing a large array of sharp teeth that didn't belong in a human's mouth.

Igor might not have been the deftest wand ever, but he wasn't really dumb. Just a bit slow and he just proved it.

"I'll appreciate it. They really ruin the atmosphere." The Dark Lord nodded. He spoke in an amiable tone that was at odds with his previous words. "Before you go, Ivailo Kolev – a werewolf alpha. He was here last night." The man looked expectantly at Igor.

The bouncer blinked a few times before his eyes widened in recognition. "He should be upstairs. If its the same, he usually spends the rest of the night and the day after with one of the girl-wolves." He jabbed a finger towards the ceiling.

"Thank you." The Dark Lord flicked his wrist and a galleon floated to hang in front of Igor's face.

The bouncer grinned, muttered a thank you and pocketed the coin. The Dark Lord just turned around and strode towards the stairs on the other side of the bar. Vance finally lowered his wand and the shield he was holding up. He suspected none of them would help him if the Dark Lord wanted to harm him or worse.

The mercenary knew that the prudent thing to do would be to make himself scarce – probably from the continent just to be on the safe side. Yet... he did need a work, the Dark Lord apparently had coin to spare and even if he didn't, after this morning's display he would be able to earn a lot fast. The danger however... the opportunity too... This was a unique position to get close to a Dark Lord and figure out what his agenda was. If this one was sane for a change... which actually did happen as often as not in the past – Grindelwald and Voldemort were exceptions. Usually one's Dark Lord was another's hero or at least a liege they didn't have qualms serving.

Besides, Vance had personally seen both previous Dark Lords. He had felt their magic and while it felt more powerful and oppressive than what he just sensed, theirs simply felt different. There was no comfort to be found in their power.

What was he even thinking? This was surely insanity! Yet, something deep inside compelled him to act. That aura, it called to the tattered remains of his family's magic, which was all that was left after he got disowned.

"My Lord, please wait!" Vance called.

The Dark Lord paused and turned to examine him from under his mask.

Vance walked purposefully forward, keenly aware that everything he did was being scrutinized by the people in the bar.

"I'm Ignatius Vance, once from the Ancient House of Vance. My wand is yours, My Lord. For the right price." Vance fell on one knee and offered the rear end of his wand in one half of an ancient ritual meant to offer fealty.

It was presumptuous, possibly suicidal and a test for both of them.

It also felt _right_.

Vance looked up at the Dark Lord expectantly and could feel the man's eyes starring back. "Well, this is certainly unexpected, Mr. Vance." Amusement crept in the Dark Lord's voice – not necessary a good thing, yet still better than anger at Ignatius' actions.

The Dark Lord's right hand disappeared within his robes and when he brought it out it was surrounded by a moving cloud of living shadows that presumably concealed his wand. Vance certainly hoped that was the case, otherwise he was about to die and it wasn't going to be a nice death. This was such a bad idea...

"Ignatius Vance, disgraced child of the Ancient House of Vance." The Dark Lord spoke in words heavy with the power of a ritual. Dark Magic coiled around them both and everyone watching baited their breath. "Wilt thou, upon this day, pledge thy fealty to me, and stand as one of my Knights?"

As the magic surrounded him, for the first time since nineteen forty, Ignatius felt like home, as if he belonged. Any misgivings he had drained away from his heart. Right on wrong, he didn't care. It has been so long since the disowning ceremony tore away his family magic and left a gaping hole in his chest that never could properly heal. He had learned to live with the pain and being less than he could and should have been – an incomplete person. On a good day, he could even say that it didn't really bother him and sometimes Ignatius even believed himself.

Not today. This... this felt like home and there was only one answer that he could give.

"Yes, My Lord!" Vance declared and his voice, chock full with conviction, echoed through the bar.

"Does thy wish to abandon all other allegiances, and be my sworn sword and shield? Does thy pledge thy very life and magic to my service?"

"Yes, My Lord! I do so pledge upon this day." Raw magic surged through Vance as a bond began to form between him and his Lord. Ignatius' next words came unbidden as the ritual and magic demanded. "And never, by will nor by force, by word nor by work do what's loathful to you, My Lord!" He paused for breath and relished as the bond strengthened. The torn links that bound the very magic in his blood to the family magic of House Vance came back to life and the feeling was indescribable. Ignatius hadn't felt so alive since he was a young man all those years ago!

The Dark Lord simply nodded and waited for what both of them knew had to come next. There was a reason why Vance did specify price when he offered his fealty. It was something that as far as he knew neither Grindelwald nor Voldemort would have accepted and for a very good reason. The ancient vows worked both ways.

"On condition that you keep me in condition that I'm willing to deserve." Vance continued. "And grant me my just reward for willing to submit myself to thy will."

The Dark Lord waved his own wand and muttered a privacy spell so no one else could hear what he said next. Only then Ignatius' Lord took the offered wand and used it's tip to touch his shoulders as the ritual demanded.

"I, Dimitri Veil, the Dark Lord of the Sith, from the Noble House of Veil, do hereby dub thee, Ignatius Vance, as one of my Knights. May your devotion and courage shine through the ages."

The Dark Lord offered Vance's wand back, holding it on the tip as a demonstration of trust, and only when Ignatius grasped its hilt he felt the privacy spell dissipate thus allowing everyone to hear what would happen next.

"My word is my bond." The Dark Lord spoke in a solemn tone. "Those who offer me unbroken fealty will receive my aid and protection. This I say, this I swear, by my magic, by my life and by my blood. May Merlin and Morgana be my witnesses, so I say, so Mote it Be!"

A dark veil of pure magic surged around them both forming a cocoon of unbound power that slowly dissipated into motes that swallowed all light that touched them before vanishing in thin air.

The Dark Lord let go of Ignatius' wand and offered him his hand. "Rise my Knight."

The pact was sealed and yet, Vance still couldn't believe that the Dark Lord did consent on accepting this kind of bond. Only now he wondered what in Merlin's name possessed him to offer his allegiance in such a way in the first time.

All he could feel from the bond was amusement and the sense of belonging borne from the soothing darkness seeped into the very being of his Lord. Now if he could only figure out how someone from a minor Noble House could become the next Dark Lord without anyone noticing... and why did the term Sith sound so naggingly familiar?

"Come my Knight, we have a wolf to find." The Dark Lord ordered and without a second thought turned around and headed towards the second floor.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 **10 January 1986**

 **The Fey's Delight bar**

 **Wizard Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Well, that happened. I gained my first minion like all proper Dark Lords should – at least that's what my memories of this world told me. The connection that the vow created was similar to a Force Bond, yet it felt different. It wasn't based made of the Force but magic instead. When I tried, I could sense Vance's emotions and I instinctively knew I should be able to locate him if he was in trouble unless he was behind some very potent charms. Even then I might be able to sense the general area he was.

The moment he offered his allegiance I knew I would accept it – the ritual he invoked was an ancient one, even if it fell out of favour a few centuries ago for some very good reasons... as far as anyone not bound by it was concerned. Nowadays it was frowned upon in a lot of places, when it wasn't outright illegal to perform.

On the bright side, Vance couldn't betray me unless he was willing to suffer loss of magic, likely life too – and the process would be excruciating. While now he was man through and through, I felt obliged to see to his well being as my retainer – my very magic compelled me to. The same went for rewarding him for both his service and the sacrifice he made by swearing himself into my service.

When all was said and done, I found myself alone in this world and I could always use people I could actually trust even if they came with strings attached.

By the time we ascended the stairs I dismissed any such thoughts out of my mind. I was here for a reason after all. The stairwell led to an open room that was a third of the size of the bar below us. There were a lot of doors along its walls – undoubtedly private booths where people could enjoy their entertainment without being disturbed. The room itself was better furnished than one might expect from a brothel in this part of town – there were multiple comfortable looking couches and armchairs covered by what suspiciously looked like velvet – it was another question if it was real or simply transfigured. In between those stood small tables covered with snacks and refreshments. The walls themselves were covered by laminated wood; all told the place had an unexpectedly pleasant atmosphere. Of course, the décor was an afterthought that most clients might not pay any attention to. All over the couches laid scantily clad boys and girls who at least at first glance looked legal – if barely; in the wizarding world.

A week ago, Dimitri might have been very happy and even more distracted at the sight. Me? Not so much and that was before meeting Irina and her friends. While the working boys and girls here were quite fetching, they had nothing on the Veelas in the looks' department... That was saying a lot considering that only Vance, myself and a pair of large bouncers were the only ones who wore anything that left something to the imagination. In contrast, the Veelas I met all wore rather conservative robes and had thick cloaks on, yet they still were among the sexiest and most desirable females that I've ever seen... no matter the galaxy or dimension.

The bouncers took one look at us and stepped back.

"Can we help you, gentlemen?" The shorter of the two – who was still towering a head above me, asked.

"You've got a werewolf client in one of these room. Ivailo Kolev. I'll have words with him. Now." I stated reasonably. I already made enough of a show today – something I might have disagreed a few minutes ago, however as I spoke to the bouncer, I felt myself getting a bit calmer. Was that the magic of the oath at work? My actions reflected on my Knight now and could needlessly endanger him for no good reason if I was too antagonistic for the hell of it, which simply wouldn't do.

This was fascinating, though something to explore when there wasn't anything more pressing to do.

The bouncers shared a look and I raised an eyebrow at their reactions. It couldn't be just my robes and the way I looked that got them one edge – I could sense their nervousness, which was shared by the other occupants of the room minus Vance who was a step behind me and feeling great. I checked, though I knew the answer, obviously. I wasn't channelling the Dark Side at the moment. It took me a moment to kick myself mentally – if there still wasn't a bit of mental disconnect between me and Dimitri's memories, it would have been obvious. It was my magic – which while not particularly strong was currently supercharged by the Ritual of Fealty and Allegiance. Now that I was paying attention, I could all but see strands of Dark Magic clinging to my form as well the bond binding Vance to me. That was so similar to being surrounded by the Dark Side that for a short while my mind didn't really notice it until I was looking for it. It made sense too – by now it was a second nature to simply ignore the whispers and very presence of the Dark Side until I needed her or I stumbled upon something or someone touched by her power.

The sheer amount of Dark Magic clinging to me after the ritual made me seem significantly more powerful wizard who had his aura on display as a message and a warning. I smirked – I was pretty sure that I could fake a similar effect using the Dark Side and that might save me some trouble in the future. Or get me into some...

The shorter bouncer shook himself and grimaced. "We can't really let you interrupt Mr Kolev if he is indeed with one of our people." His dedication to his job was commendable. It was too bad that it placed him on my way.

Instead of answering, I looked at the surrounding rooms through the Force and promptly got my next surprise for the day. Whatever they were using to ensure privacy did prevent me from accurately sensing what was behind the sheets of magic I could perceive. I was pretty sure that there were actually people inside at least a third of the rooms but that was it – how many, where exactly or what they were doing, that information eluded me. It was my turn to frown. It would have been nice if the Force continued to be as big a cheat sheet as usual. Nevertheless, I was glad it existed in this dimension. Otherwise, as an average wizard my life would have been much harder. Who knew what lengths I would have gone to the in a search of more power?

I looked back at the bouncers and sent a warning to Vance through our connection. I would try to be nice one more way and then, well one way or another they wouldn't be blocking my way for much longer.

"Which room?" I asked and wrenched the power of the Dark Side into my body. The mere presence of her energies chilled the air around us and made all the light appear subdued.

"I'm not getting paid enough for this!" The larger bouncer shook his head and took another step back. He raised his arms to show he was unarmed and slowly crept towards the stairway behind us.

I gave him a small nod and he bolted for the floor bellow us. His buddy shook his head in exasperation. "I can't let you further without trying to stop you, sir." He sighed and went for his wand.

That was as far as he got because I gripped him in a telekinetic hold and a moment later Vance sent a stunner followed by a body-bind that enveloped the bouncer into thick chains that were perfectly capable of holding a werewolf as long as it wasn't transformed.

I turned my attention to the other employees who were all fully awake and starring at us.

"Kolev. Werewolf. Which room." I spoke in a clipped tone. Whatever else the bond with Vance did, it didn't increase my patience.

A boy, who might have been fifteen if I squinted hard, pointed at the door to his right. I nodded and threw him a sickle for his trouble before I tore the door off its hinges using telekinesis. It did have various charms layered upon it, likely more than just the privacy ones and I didn't want to test what would happen if I sent a spell at it. Whatever defences it had, if any, didn't activate. I let the door go right above the stunned bouncer – he did irritate me after all and looked in the small room. A large bed covered most of it. There was a white cupboard next to it and a row of hooks nailed to the wall next to the door where a pair of cloaks hung.

In the bed, below a blue blanket I could see two forms that just began to stir – either hungover or they had fun with something stronger than alcohol. A thug through the Force saw their covering removed, though that might have been a mistake. At least it was obvious that this might indeed be the alpha I was looking for, though I didn't really need to know that female werewolves even weeks away from the full moon could be this hairy everywhere. As far as kinks go, this really wasn't one of mine, though at least it wasn't bad enough to require brain bleach.

I hauled the stirring man up so I could see his face – yeah, this matched the images and description I got from the were I interrogated earlier this morning.

"Get him clothed, bound and stunned. We're leaving." I ordered Vance.

It was a good thing I didn't torch the wizard tents at the clearing where Kolev's pack camped out and just removed any trace of my presence. That place would be convenient for an interrogation or two until I got myself a secure base of operations. I just hoped that the Veelas could come through with some Veritaserum soon, otherwise if Kolev was strong wiled, something that I expected in an alpha, I was in for a long interrogation. Or a very short one if I had to force my way into his mind, which would inevitably fry his brain in a short order thus preventing me from getting a lot of information.


	7. Chapter 3 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Veil, Dimitri Veil**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **10 January 1986**

 **Werewolf camp**

 **Pirin Mountains**

 **Bulgaria**

I watched Kolev's body be consumed by the Dark Side and turned my attention to my minion. He didn't look particularly happy nor did he feel any better. However, it couldn't be helped – there was no easy access to Veritaserum to be had and what the potion master friendly with the Veela could offer would take both time and money I currently couldn't afford to supply. That left interrogating the alpha the old fashioned way and that got ugly fast. As I suspected, he was strong willed – his wolf surely helped with that. In the end I had to shatter his mind in order to get anything useful. I also got a personal demonstration why wizards didn't use Legilimency on werewolves – the wolf spirit, curse of whatever you wanted to call it was a distinct being with its own mind and thus perfectly capable to shred the mind of anyone trying to enter the were's mind in a conventional manner. I had to shatter the wolf's mind too, which only ensured I could get less information before Kolev expired.

"I'm a Dark Lord, you know. One who looks forward up to enjoying his retirement, soon, but a Dark Lord nevertheless." I said to Vance.

Ignatius winced but nodded in resignation.

"As you undoubtedly figured out, our next target is Stephan Ivanov. When you heard his name it got you concerned. Explain." I looked expectantly at my minion.

He stared at the burning fire in the centre of the camp where we conducted the interrogation and sighed.

"He's an old vampire. Powerful, well connected. Ivanov's one of the bigger movers in the mercenary world – he facilitates all kinds of contracts on the Balkans, knows the all the right people and either works for them, with them, has them bribed or blackmailed."

That lined up with the impressions I got from Kolev and what little Irina knew of the man. Subverting or removing him was the question... I lacked a carrot to go with the stick of killing Ivanov so taking him out was probably the prudent course of action, however it would be best if we could get our hands on him and figure out what he knew of Gorski's illicit affairs.

"Speaking about mercenaries – do you know any reliable ones, preferably some who might be willing to swear the same vow you did. I'll be looking to form a Private Military Company to protect my legal interests in both the Muggle and Wizard world."

I sensed how Vance's mind raced as he thought how to answer. The idea of creating a PMC was a new one and I could lay it at Ignatius' feet. His presence reminded me that I would need reliable security for when I finally got to uplifting this world. In fact I would need such a protection in place and shaping up before I got my first patents of the ground so I could figure out exactly what would work and expand it as more and more funds become available. Besides, if handled properly, such an outfit might even pay for itself – at least partially. As long as they remembered – pillage, then burn.

"I know of a few reliable people still in the business." Vance eventually said. "However, I'm unsure if any would even think about giving the Oath of Fealty before you've gained more renown and positive reputation, My Lord."

"What's their going rate for short to medium term contract? Heavy combat possible but not likely at this juncture."

"Twenty to fifty galleon retainer per week for the good ones if they're available and you want them to stay that way baring the odd short job. For actual jobs? A hundred to five hundred for short stints plus combat pay."

That actually might be affordable in the short run – if the information I got out of Kolev's head about his pack's stash was on the money. The primary issue was that I did need a lot of money for equipment, research and experiments to get my patents going and unless once we dealt with the current political entanglement we found a large well paying job, I would be wasting money trying to keep mercenaries on retainer. Forming a PMC would get expensive fast so while not ideal it would have to wait.

"Let's go meet some Veelas. Try to behave like a grown up boy." I smirked, grabbed Vance's arm and side-along apparated him to the Sanctuary.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **10 January 1986**

 **Veela Sanctuary**

 **Pirin Mountains**

 **Bulgaria**

Once again I found myself in Irina's office. This time we did have company – Viara if I remembered her name right and she was giving gooey eyes to my knight. Vance on the other hand did all he could not to become a drooling wreck, however it was a close run thing. That only excited the younger Veela further.

On the bright side, Ignatius suddenly had no more regrets about giving me the oath.

"The alpha is dealt with as well." I told Irina. "Any progress with Varshenska?"

Petrova glanced from me to my minion and back, raised an eyebrow and looked expectantly at me.

"He's my sworn retainer. You don't have to worry about him." I looked at Viara. "However, I might have to worry about his virtue."

Irina giggled. "It's rare we meet someone with this much restrain around us. It's refreshing and something we usually reward. Much less two for the price of one." She winked at us.

"I do like rewards. Even better when they're the monetary kind." I quipped.

"You're no fun." Irina pouted.

"I can be a lot of fun my dear. Especially after my money is safely in my vault. Varshenska?"

"I've sent a message. We'll get an answer in a few days." Petrova became serious. "I've had my girls quietly ask around about Ivanov. The few who got back to me already have concerning news..." Which she proceeded to rely. Unfortunately, I didn't learn anything that Vance or the were I interrogated didn't already tell me.

"What do you think? Make sure he knows we're looking for him? Stir enough trouble to prompt a reaction?" I suggested.

"It might work." Ignatius looked focused on me in an attempt not to look at the Veelas and be distracted by them. It was only somewhat effective. "Or he would go to ground."

I looked at Viara then my eyes moved on Irina. That might work, but I was as likely to get a fireball to the face for suggesting it. I did it anyway.

"Bait." I offered.

Petrova was quick on figuring it out. Her face twisted in a snarl that still made her appear ravishing and glared balefully at me. "Hell no!"

"I'm just making a suggestion. Kolev was supposed to try capturing a Veela or two and deliver them to Ivanov."

Now Viara was glaring at me too. Her form subtly shifted and looked more avian, though it was more in the way she leaned forward and possibly a trick of the light than an actual transformation.

"I'm not risking one of my girls that way. Nor I trust you that much." Irina snapped.

"Fair enough. What is the legal status of duelling in Bulgaria? I haven't looked into it. What are odds of baiting Gorski into a legally sanctioned fight against myself?" I changed the topic before fireballs began flying my way.

Vance wasn't too happy with me either – with both Veelas royally pissed off at me his chances of getting laid any time soon with Viara suddenly fell south of zero.

"Possible in theory – if someone has the right standing among what remains of the Bulgarian wizard nobility. You however aren't one of them. Nor do you have high enough standing in your own country to even contemplate something like that." Irina gradually calmed down as she spoke.

"Can a local noble engineer the challenge and chose me as their champion? Like Lady Varshenska for example?" I pressed on. While assassinating Gorski might be viable, it would be much better if I could take him out with legal cover. Doing so could do wonders for my reputation too.

"And why would she risk doing so? While removing the wolves do you credit, you're still an unknown. You would need to be much better that you've demonstrated so far to even stand a chance against Gorski, much less convince Lady Varshenska to go along with such a scheme."

Well, it was obvious that Petrova hadn't heard about my little demonstration at the bar, however, that by itself might not be enough to make Varshenska bet on me against Gorski. By all accounts he was not one to fuck around with.

"Well, then I would need to enhance my reputation, won't I? When can I expect the payment for dealing with the werewolves? That was a different deal compared to handling Gorski after all."

Irina narrowed her eyes at me but slowly nodded. She went for one of the drawers of her desk and retrieved a small bag, which she threw at me. "Here. Two hundred galleons for your trouble. I'll owl you once Lady Varshenska replies. Will you still be at that tavern?"

"You can send a message there if the owl can't locate me. In the meantime, I'm going to work on Ivanov and making myself better known."

Vance groaned. I was sure he had a pretty good idea what kinds of shenanigans I was about to drag him into.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

 **10 January 1986**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

"What are we doing here, My Lord?" Vance suspiciously looked around. We were in the yard of a metallurgic factory under concealment charms.

"We'll be encountering vampires soon – no matter if its Ivanov or the troublemakers in Romania. I believe its prudent that we're prepared." I explained happily. Its been a very long time since I had to commit this kind of skull-grudgery. It was nostalgic!

"That still doesn't explain why are we here of all paces!" Ignatius hissed. He had to jump back not to be ran over by a vehicle busy hauling a load of steel sheets.

"We're here for supplies." I explained unhelpfully.

Ignatius gave me an exasperated look.

"I'm pretty sure we can get most of what we'll need for home-made thermite and napalm in here."

Vance stared at me and blanched. "And you'll expect us to carry that stuff into a possible fight with vampires!?" He hissed.

"That's what unbreakable and shrinking charms are for. Besides, I don't trust transfigured stuff to not get either dispelled or turn back at the exactly wrong moment." I reasonably pointed out. I didn't add that I simply didn't know the spells to transfigure or conjure some of the stuff we needed, though I did know all kinds of ways to turn one thing into another that were useless in the real world.

"What about the bombs you want to make getting hit?"

"Make sure they get hit only after you've thrown them safely away. Now what exactly did we need..." I mused aloud.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **11 January 1986**

 **Fey's Delight bar**

 **Wizard Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Igor Cherni glared murderously at everyone who dared approach him, even the members of his crew, who came carrying news. Even the cup of body warm virgin blood couldn't soothe his rage. Someone dared meddle in his maker's work! That simply couldn't stand! The bastard even had the temerity to pretend to be a Dark Lord! As if one could rise into without the Living Dead being aware of it! They knew of Grindelwald and Voldemort long before either of those two could even think of claiming such a title! The same was true for their predecessors!

Those dark thoughts merely drove Igor deeper into his rage. He was pissed off at the bloody wolves, at the dumb birds who refused to bow to their betters and at the meddler who made his life harder! If he didn't fix this soon, he would have to explain to his maker why the job wasn't done and worse, why someone daring to stand up to them was still alive – and that was simply unacceptable!

"Weres!" Igor spat. He should have hired someone more reliable instead of those mutts! He took a swing of his drink and relished the taste of warm ambrosia as it slid down his throat.

He glared at his crew – only a few of them were in the bar, milling around and asking questions. The rest were all over the other drinking holes and whorehouses in the quarter trying to find who the supposed "Dark Lord" was and where to find the bastard so Igor could skin him alive!

So far it was all for naught! Igor already spent hundreds of galleons on bribes, he had people threatened and blackmailed, yet no one knew nothing! It was infuriating, fuck it all!

A commotion coming from the front door got his attention. A trembling man stumbled in and fell to his knees. Crucio – Igor's mind immediately supplied. He had seen it and its effects hundreds of times during his long unlife. He was about to dismiss the incident as none of his business when something clicked in his mind. Igor narrowed his eyes and focused on the man. Sure enough – he might look much filthier than last night, but that was Kolev, the damn were!

The so called Dark Lord didn't kill him then. Igor grinned, downed the rest of the precious virgin blood and threw the glass away. He whistled in a way that only vampires and weres could hear and once his people looked at him he nodded at the wretched alpha. The dog might have survived the ministration of his captor, however he wouldn't be so lucky once Igor was done with him.

Karl and Ipse made their way through the patrons who were enjoying the show and hauled the were up then dragged him towards their boss. Igor grinned, displaying his fangs for all to see. "What a mangy dog like you does here?" He sneered at the shaking man. "You failed my maker's task, didn't you doggie?"

"Oh, it's you!" Kolev exclaimed in relief. "I've got message!" He nodded and spoke so fast through trembling lips that even with his enhanced senses, Igor had trouble understanding him. The vampire frowned and nodded to his men to pull the fleabag closer. Despite his superhuman reflexes and reaction time, Igor had just enough time to register a trio of glittering shapes launching from under the were's rags before the world exploded in light and pain, pain, PAIN!

Cherni clawed at his throat and face, which burned. All he was aware of was the suffocating stench of garlic and howls of pain. For a split moment he felt like flying – a sensation that did nothing for the agony raking his face and chest and then a wall slammed into him – again and again and... there were stars and darkness...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

"You've got to love when a plan get together." A familiar voice echoed through the very quiet bar.

Theodor resigned himself that this would be one of those nights even before he figured out that the Dark Lord was back – as if the angry vampires who skulked around since dusk weren't enough! The patrons were unsure how to react. They were all on their feet and those with wands had them up and pointed at the brief fight. Theodor didn't know what the Dark Lord mixed with the garlic to produce such a reaction from the unliving – but he had to get himself some, it was obviously very potent.

With three vampires down, including the only elder present tonight, the other two who were in the bar were in no hurry to jump in the fight – not when there was a cloud of garlic and who knew what else waiting for them.

"Boys, tell Ivanov that we need to have words, he and I. The little bloodsucker overstepped his bonds and there will be consequences.

"You'll die for this!" One of the vampires hissed, yet he didn't even take a step towards the Dark Lord, which kinda further ruined his half-hearted threat.

"If I had a knut for every time someone told me that." The Dark Lord chuckled and looked around. "Are we going to have a problem?" He asked the patrons. "I find myself in need of some stress relief. Any volunteers?" As he spoke darkness gathered around him until only a hazy outline could be seen where he stood. The temperature dropped and Theodor was sure it became colder than outside – if the frost slowly creeping over the floor around the dark pool where the Lord stood was any indication.

"Who the fuck do you think you're?!" A worthy with more brawn than brains shouted.

The crowd baited their breath to see what would happen and no one but the brave fool got disappointed. The young wizard shot at the ceiling and impacted with bone-breaking speed. The solid concrete cracked and blood splattered over it. A heartbeat later, the Dark Lord slammed the corpse in the ground, embedding it into the wooden floor. If the poor bastard had any bone left intact after the first impact, there surely wasn't one left after the second.

"Next?" The Dark Lord asked cheerfully. The crowd shifted uncomfortably. No one here was stranger to brawls and the occasional death or two when things got out of hand. However, such a casual display of wandless prowess and magic might weren't something anyone had seen since the days when Voldemort and Grindelwald were at their height. No one was eager to test if this Dark Lord was as powerful and vicious as the last two. The patrons wisely took a step back and many raised their hands to imply that they would be casing no problems.

"Pity." The Dark Lord sighed.

Something golden floated from the cloud of darkness and stopped in front of Theodor's face. It took him few long moments to calm his heart when he figured out that he wasn't about to be splattered all over his bar and then blinked owlishly at the galleon floating in front of his face.

"Be a dear and make sure Ivanov receives my message."

The dark cloud moved towards the door and soon vanished, leaving behind the broken and smoking bodies of two vampires.

"We're so dead..." Groaned one of the vampires who wisely chose not to intervene.


	8. Chapter 4 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Unintended consequences**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **11 January 1986**

 **Night Wolves base of operations**

 **Montenegro**

Magic being amazing could accomplish many things that to the initiated might seem impossible. For instance, for over sixty years, what to the casual observer was a ruined medieval estate left to rot in the mountains, was in fact a busy thriving werewolf community. Its location made its existence that much more interesting – it was situated in one of the smallest European countries, which in theory at least should have been both a blessing and a curse. However, a mutually beneficial relationship with the local Magical government established by the original alpha of the werewolf community did wonders for their continued unmolested existence. Simply put, they were to deal with any were-induced troubles in the country, pay taxes and as long as they didn't bother the locals, all was well.

That comfortable state of affairs continued for more that sixty years and survived a world war, Grindelwald's excesses and even Voldemort related stupidity. To the wolves themselves, the opportunity created by their first alpha was god-sent. They got not just a safe sanctuary, but more importantly a home where their families were safe when they were out working – which a lot of the time meant breaking stuff and killing people.

The Night Wolves were a mercenary outfit after all – one of the better known and more respected within the wizarding world. Most of them had recently returned from a long contract in Africa, which while successful, did lead to a number of casualties that had to be replenished. That's why Zara Jelik – the current Night Wolves alpha and leader dispatched small groups of her wolves to all nearby countries in search of reliable werewolves to interview.

Meanwhile, she and the rest of the mercenaries were busy with all the trivial but still important things that needed to be done after coming home after a long, yet profitable mission. At least Zara didn't have to deal with the same amount of paperwork that a regular government force – no matter Muggle or Magical, had to go through on a daily basis.

Still, it could be much, much worse – like that débâcle that took the Night Wolves founder and their first alpha eight years ago, but that wasn't something she wanted to even think about. People often tended to say that the pain of loss lessened with time – Zara found the hard way that they lied. You merely became accustomed to it.

The alpha sighed and rubbed her face. At that rate she wouldn't get any more work done. She glared at the stack of parchment she still had to go through, shook her head and left it for later. There was no use trying to deal with it while in that state of mind – she knew better after the first time she tried. Gods, wasn't that embarrassing... She got up and left her small office. Long before she could reach the courtyard of the manor serving as the Night Wolves base of operations slash home, she could clearly hear the laugher of children. Zara smiled wryly and made her way outside – where a lot of the Wolves' dependants, especially their offspring were gathered together for easier supervision while most of the adults were busy elsewhere.

In her mind, this was her people's greatest achievement – not their spotless reputation, nor all the successful jobs they could boast about, but the fact that the Night Wolves had created a thriving community for their kind where no one bothered to disturb them even when most of their fighters were away. Even in this part of Europe, which was much more tolerant of Dark Creatures than the rest, her kind was as often as not frowned upon and looked at with suspicion, even more than the bloodsuckers. Intellectually she could understand it – no matter how monstrous some of them used to act, as a whole vampires in the Balkans had centuries old reputation as protectors and fighters against the Ottoman Empire. In comparison, when someone heard of a werewolf, that was usually connected with some bastard hunting people on the night of the full moon or if someone fucked up when setting up their sanctuary for the night.

At least in this small part of Europe, the werewolves reputation was slowly but surely changing for the better – another thing to be proud of.

Zara's smile widened and she leaned in the shadow of an arch that housed the manor's main entrance. The carefree laugher of the children soothed he soul and made handling the past easier even on the worst of days.

Unfortunately that state of contentment didn't last for long. Marko Varga, one of her most reliable lieutenants strode her way with a frown further marring his scarred face – even magic healing couldn't do much to remove damage caused by a frenzied ghoul's claws. Zara sighed – Marko being concerned never boded well.

"What's the latest trouble?"

"Uran's group got trashed."

"The hothead?" Zara felt like face-palming. They were meant to go to Sofia – Bulgaria was perhaps the most accommodating country for their kind on the continent, besides Montenegro that is... which wasn't particularly surprising. For all intents and purposes, after Grindelwald's war, the Bulgarian's Ministry ran the Balkans by virtue of being the only one left in the region more or less functional when the dust settled. That had been a state of affair that the Bulgarian wizards and witches capitalized upon in the following years and were still considered among the three big magical powers in Europe right besides the French and British. "How did he fuck up in Sofia of all places?"

"If Peter and Felix are to be believed, they ran afoul of a crazy Dark Lord." Mark rolled his eyes, showing his unshakable faith in that part of the story.

"Fat chance that." Zara sighed. If there was a Dark Lord making moves one the Balkans, one of the Night Wolves' contacts would have told them something – at least a rumour if nothing else. "They pissed off the wrong man, or woman." The alpha grumbled. "Details?"

"All but those two are dead. Taken apart with wandless magic by a Dark Lord wearing Dark Robes who was being all Dark Lordly." Varga supplied unhelpfully.

"They were drunk, weren't they?" Zara growled.

"Well, by the time they got across the border they were more or less sober, however..." Mark's nose twitched as if that explained it which it did.

Those fools were drunk all right. No wonder they saw or imagined something that looked like a Dark Lord. It wasn't like those hid under every rock or something. While they were actually more common that most people believed, most so called Dark Lords were simply content to be loners absorbed in research that their local Magical Ministries frowned upon – and as often as not those weren't really questionable or dark things that they studied!

Hells, Zara actually used to do regular work for a few of those before they either moved, retired or got caught and there was one living in Greece she considered a friend! That one was actually a nice old lady a bit too obsessed with hydras but no one's perfect!

"We still need to do something about what happened." Varga prodded.

"We do have our reputation to uphold. Get me couple of squads ready – just in case our idiots weren't seeing things. Did you get anything useful from them?"

"Just the place where they got their rears handed to them. Everything else they told me is pure nonsense."

"Of all the foolish, stupid... Now we have to rough some bastard who was just at the wrong time and place, won't we? The things we do for our reputation..." Zara continued to grumble. "Don't you smirk at me, Varga! You're coming with us!" The alpha snapped irritably.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

 **12 January 1986**

 **Stephan Ivanov's lair**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Enchanted candles threw flickering lights throughout a quite large underground complex that began its existence twenty years ago as a fallout shelter that never got quite finished. Some bribes and charms saw the Muggles forget all about it. After that it was relatively simple job to get the place properly defended and furnished so he could serve as one of the bigger vampire covens on the Balkans. While it couldn't really rival most of the Romanian ones – where various clans had whole castles, sometimes complete with tourist visits and government subsidies to keep the "historical" sites up to snuff of all things, it was still nothing to scoff at. For decades, the place had been Ivanov's lair, shelter and base of operations; during all those years no one ever dared come after him in this place.

In fact, it's been years since anyone really tried to meddle in his business – something Stephan was quite proud of. It was a testament that nearly a century of building a solid reputation within both the underground world and in the open as a problem solver for those with the means to pay him was a great investment of time and effort. Nowadays, he could usually kick back, enjoy the spoils and only occasionally act as a go between himself. He was a respected vampire master now and more importantly, he had reliable minions to deal with his day to day affairs.

It was good to be Stephan Ivanov! On an average day, he needed just a few hours to go over his investments and check if his minions had everything in order. That left him with a lot of time to have fun, especially on those long, steamy winter nights.

Stephen grinned and put the last parchment he had to go through tonight on the pile with done paperwork and got up from his antique ebony desk. He retrieved his wand and activated the security charms that would lock down his office tight the moment he left and took a moment to pridefully look at all the expensive furniture he had gathered in the largish room in order to impress the few visitors important enough to warrant an invitation into his inner sanctum. Carefully restored tapestries from ancient Persia and Assyria stood proudly next to priceless pieces of Roman and Egyptian art. They were flanked by display cases containing artefacts from all over Europe, which were both a display of power and prestige as well as another secure nest egg in case he ever had to flee. Shrinking and picking them up would take just a few waves of his wand and once the heat settled down he could sell them and use the money to either regain his status, begin anew somewhere no one knew who the hell he was or simply enjoy his retirement.

Ivanov snorted at that thought. Considering the kind of people who owed him favours for cleaning after them on semi-regular basis, his position was more secure than ever.

Stephan left the office and paused to make sure that all defences snapped in place properly. Once that was done, he happily skipped toward his rooms only detouring briefly to pick up a bottle of Bloodwine. Summoning it or calling an elf would have been more convenient – if he wasn't paranoid enough to have his lair charmed against both the ugly little imps and the Accio charm.

That thought made him scowl when it caused a phantom ache in his fangs. Having them summoned right out of his jaw by an irate Dark Lord was something he would never forget – that was the last time he worked for one. Doing so was hazardous for one's continued state of unliving.

Ivanov dismissed those morbid thoughts walked through the spells guarding his rooms. The moment he crossed the threshold, all kinds of delicious scents assaulted his senses and he grinned. His pets had started without him the wicked girls. Moans, pheromones and the unmistakable perfume of feminine arousal coming from his bedroom confirmed what he knew – it was indeed great to be Stephan Ivanov!

His grin widened as he walked towards the sounds of debauchery and had to skip around articles of discarded lingerie – it was those little Italian things that left very little to the imagination he bought the last time he was to Milan.

Stephen got to the door and took a few long moments to appreciate the sight before joining, when some dead man walking walked through the charms protecting his rooms. He just got stiffer than a Goblin forged sword, damn it! Someone was going to suffer for that!

Ivanov snarled, displaying his impressive fangs for all to see and turned around to meet the intruder. He strode furiously up to the outer room – no one but himself, the girls and someone he personally led through the enchantments could go past that point without bringing the defences and all the guards upon their heads.

"What?!" Stephan snarled when he saw one of his minions – who was appropriately cowering, kneel on the tiles covering the concrete floor.

"Problem, boss!" The young vampire stammered. "He... he... got Cherni! Picked him out right from the Fey's Delight!"

Cherni was supposed to be in the wizarding quarter of the city making sure everything ran smoothly. Who would be dumb or audacious enough to go after a century old vampire and his gang?! In Ivanov's city no less!

"Who's he?" The old vampire growled. If this was merely Cherni fucking up he was going to tear out his fangs himself then feed them to him through...

"A Dark Lord, boss!" The minion whimpered.

That gave Stephan a pause. "A Dark Lord? Here, in this city without me knowing?" He scoffed. What rotten blood did this idiot drink!? He glided through the few metres separating them, grabbed the minion's neck and slammed him in the nearest wall. "A Dark Lord." Ivanov snorted at the very idea. Those didn't just appear out of nowhere. The people in the known, like him, always got aware of a Dark Lord beginning his rise long before they were ready to make a public appearance! Ivanov was the kind of mover and shaker every Dark Lord needed even if he now knew better than getting anywhere near those! If there was a new one on the rise he would have known already!

"Explain." Stephan shook the whimpering fool who tried to pass himself as a proper vampire. Nowadays, they just didn't make minions like they used to a few decades ago!

The minion explained – though it was a bother to understand between his constant whimpering and stammering.

"Dark Lord my hairy ass." No self-respecting Dark Lord would ever steep so low to play-act such degrading subterfuge as the one he just heard described. Especially when said Dark Lord apparently had at least one sworn follower. "Gather the boys, find that dead wizard walking and inform me where he is. I'll oversee dealing with him myself!" Ivanov growled from deep within his chest.

Great, now he had to call his contacts and demand information to find a Dark Lord wannabe – the last time he had to deal with such a bother was back in fifty-two. Now the mood was ruined and he wouldn't be able to join the girls for a few more hours, damn it all to hell! When he got his claws into that bastard, he was going to pay for this!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Auror Department**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Usually, the night shift was the interesting one – that was an ancient Auror wisdom. It was only after dusk that most Dark Creatures were out and about when the great majority of decent people were already at home or heading there. With vampire being allergic to sunlight, they caused trouble exclusively during the night, which caused the Bulgarian Aurors no end of work during the winters. It didn't help that the Balkans along with certain parts of Russia were the traditional haunt of the bloodsuckers on the continent.

At least for the past couple of centuries the majority of them acted more or less civilized, most of the time anyway. Well, honestly such a statement was a bit of a stretch. It was more accurate to say that they preferred to get into trouble with various criminals and as long as civilians weren't involved, the Aurors usually tended to turn a blind eye on the issue. After all, criminal offing each other without causing problems for the public was a good thing overall. It meant fewer troublemakers in the long run.

What wasn't okay was a new player entering the field and potentially disrupting the currently existing balance – which while not ideal was in fact something everyone was able to live with. Or unlive, whatever.

Chief Auror Alexander Pchelarski, Al to his friends, wasn't amused. He stood in one of the department's interrogation cells glaring daggers at a terrified informant. The man already had two calming draughts shoved in his gullet and still he was trembling in fright. He was paler than a century old vampire too – which was a notable achievement considering that his skin was much darker than you could usually see in these parts.

A new gang trying to shove away the usual suspects – that happened from time to time. Occasionally, the issue wasn't dealt with in house before the Aurors got let off the leash to clean up the mess and remind everyone why they should keep their illicit activities out of the public eye or else. This however wasn't something so mundane, if Vasil was to be believed. While this particular informer was usually one of the reliable ones, given his current state...

The veteran Auror frowned. A Dark Lord? That was the last thing Bulgaria, or rest of Europe, needed, now or ever. They already had to deal with two of the worst Dark Lords in centuries in the span of just a few short decades and that was on top of two world wars... not to mention all the issues the Balkans in general and Bulgaria in particular had even before that.

Alexander looked at the one way mirror taking up most of the wall next to the door. "I'm calling it in. Summon the Director and begin recalling all Aurors – I don't care if they're on vacation, have day off or retired. As long as they aren't in the hospital dying I want them all in the building at noon at the latest!"

If there really was a new Dark Lord up and about, they had to nip that issue in the bud while they still had. At the very least they had to demonstrate that joining his cause – whatever it might be, would be hazardous for the health of any adventurous criminal, thrill seeker or mercenary.


	9. Chapter 4 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Unintended consequences**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

Rumours are interesting things. Even when no one wants to believe them, they spread faster than a wildfire in a dry forest during the summer. For example, after Grindelwald and Voldemort, no one was prepared to accept that a third Dark Lord was on the rise in less than a century – not within continental Europe anyway. That's why when the first rumours of such a man surfaced in Sofia during the first weeks of January, most people dismissed them as the ravings of various Dark Creatures and Wizards. Even those who got first hand accounts and had a reason to go after said Dark Lord, didn't really believe it. Most of those were Dark after all. Dark Lords contacted and recruited their kind first.

The Bulgarian Aurors weren't an exception – they didn't believe either. However, they weren't ready to take any chances and mere hours after the rumour reached their ears, they were out in strength. It didn't take them long to shake down their informants, round up a lot of the usual suspects and soon a concerning picture began to form...

In the same time, Stephan Ivanov's goons went out in strength – from petty thieves paying their dues to his organization to various Dark Wizards enjoying his patronage to the Vampires working directly for the man, they all swarmed out of their hiding holes and began asking pointed questions too. It was mere hours after Igor Cherni was taken when they clashed with the Aurors for the first time and it was soon after dawn on the thirteenth that a group of angry werewolves arrived raring up for a good fight...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **13 January 1986**

 **Director's office**

 **Auror Department**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

An hour past dawn, Director Lydia Malinova paced in front of her desk. Her usually braided black hair whipped behind her back and danced with power fed by her anger. Lydia's heart-shaped face was fixed into a scowl that was more than enough to make her subordinates nervous. She eventually paused her angry striding and glared at the three men standing at attention in her office.

"We dropped the ball on this one." Malinova's alluring voice snapped through the silent office, betraying a hint of Veela heritage. "I spent the past hour talking to our dear Minister. He seems more concerned about how disruptive we've been the past few hours than concerned that a new Dark Lord might be on the rise." She fixed her blazing gaze upon her Chief Auror.

Alexander Pchelarski scowled right back. "We already have advocates crawling all over the place as well as flunkies from Kniajev's office demanding we stop upsetting the status quo before we've provoke darker elements into doing something we might all regret."

"What do we know about this Dark Lord?" Lydia asked.

"One confirmed appearance of a possible Dark Lord in the Fey's Delight bar. He went there to kidnap the alpha of a third rate pack – one Ivailo Kolev." Alexander explained what his people managed to piece together. "Another likely appearance last night, when someone poly-juiced or glamoured as Kolev kidnapped a Vampire high up in Ivanov's organization..."

Lydia listened to the report, while quietly seething inside. There already were half a dozen encounters between her Aurors and members of Ivanov's organization since Alexander heard the rumour of a new Dark Lord. The cells downstairs were filling up with rounded up troublemakers, she had a pair of Aurors in Saint Lazar Hospital along with ten criminals who were out looking for trouble and the elusive Dark Lord who kicked out this whole mess and baring a miracle things were going to get worse before they improved. Potentially a lot worse.

"We can't have open warfare in the streets. Make it clear to everyone that what's happening this morning simply won't fly." Lydia ordered. "Do we know what Ivanov did to piss off a potential Dark Lord?"

The Director's three most trusted subordinates looked at each other. They did know something then. "Alexander." She asked sweetly. "Talk to me."

"The woman Kolev was with already got picked up so we rounded a few of her friends. He's been boasting about getting a few Veela's to play with from up in the mountains." Pchelarski said.

Lydia closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead in a futile attempt to forestall a headache. After an accident a few months ago when a Veela lost control of her allure in the presence of a group of Aurors, the current Ministry policy was that the Auror Department should be very careful when answering any calls from Veelas or suspected Veelas. That, pressure from the Minister's office and what Lydia believed to be bribes but couldn't prove it yet meant that responding to calls for disturbances from most Veela sanctuaries in the country was hard – if someone deigned to rely those calls to her people in the first place. That issue wasn't helped by the fact that most such places were in the wilderness far from human habitation and thus outside the monitoring network that was concentrated on the borders as well as cities, towns and villages. When all was said and done, someone could have a pitched battle in some forests and mountains in the country and unless someone reported it, no one in the Ministry would be the wiser.

Frankly, what was happening with the Veelas currently was an unacceptable state of affair, one that Lydia hated. However, she had a choice – either spent her political capital in ensuring that her department received the budged in needed without cuts or push for removing the directives tying up her hands. She chose the budged – otherwise, there simply might have been no one to respond to a problem happening outside a populated centre anyway. With a Dark Lord apparently making an appearance, her choice was obviously the right one.

Well, apparently one of the Veela Matriarch's decided that the existing state of affairs was unacceptable and did something about it...

"Do we know which Sanctuary Kolev was after?" Lydia asked. That was really the only thing she needed to know right now so she could go visit the Matriarch. "And why didn't begin with this little piece of information?" She glared at Alexander.

Suddenly it was clear what was happening. A Veela Matriarch called some kind of favour – Malinova would be learning the details sooner or later, and that somehow led to a Dark Lord taking notice. Things could get really ugly even if this one was among the Dark Lords content to spent their time secluded playing with forbidden research and unspeakable experiments instead of one of those eager to cause problems for everyone...

"We don't know, Director. Just that Kolev had his pack out in the mountains." The Chief Auror admitted.

"That's not helpful." Lydia groaned. Most Veela Sanctuaries on the Balkans were in the mountains. Lydia sighed. She would be writing to every one, hoping that one of her contacts could give her a clue. She simply didn't have to time to visit them all and hope she would hit the right one any time soon.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Werewolf camp**

 **Pirin Mountains**

 **Bulgaria**

"My Lord, are you sure about this plan?" Vance asked.

I looked away from the burning vampire we just finished interrogating and experimenting on. My minion looked a bit pale and did feel somewhat off.

"Do you have a better idea on how to get this mess cleared up in a short amount of time?" I inquired. Did I mention that my patience wasn't what it used to be before awakening in this world?

"Faster? Not really. My Lord, the plan is..." He gulped. "Suicidal or the next best thing."

"Is it?" I frowned. It was dangerous, all right; not something that I would have contemplated during my first years working with Imperial Intelligence, however the situation was very different these days. Back then my control over the Force was much lesser than today and I did have a support network, which changed things significantly.

It was obvious that the smart or at least safer course of action would be to slowly create a network of spies and agents before jumping on the deep end as I did when I agreed to help the Veela's solve their larger problem. However, that would take years to do properly. I simply lacked the patience and had the power to do a lot of things that would be outright suicidal, not to mention the hight of idiocy for a regular covert operative.

"It might get us killed." I agreed. That wasn't an issue. I was a Sith. It's been a very long time since I feared death and dying – well that was a risk I would gleefully face. "The rewards are worth it."

My minion didn't look reassured. The truth was that I did think about the situation. In order to do anything in an acceptable time-frame, I needed resources. To gain those resources, I needed, well, resources, duh. What I did have at my disposal was pocket change and my powers. Powers no one was really aware of, which under different circumstances would be a boon. However, in order to get various doors opened, I needed reputation. To be precise, my Dark Lord persona, which should be kept separate from one Stephan Veil, needed to be known and feared.

That Varshenska woman wouldn't bet on a virtual nobody. On the other hand, a Dark Lord? That was someone who people would take notice of.

It was dangerous, insane even.

It was going to be so much fun too.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 **13 January 1986**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

If Vance had to describe what working for a Dark Lord was like, the simple answer would be – pure, sheer, distilled madness. It was close to noon when they found a fuel truck, jumped on it covered by notice-me-not charms and then things got crazy. Well, crazier.

The Dark Lord mentally dominated the driver to get out, while he had Ignatius cast all kinds of anti-detection and concealment charms on the truck. Only then did the maniac deign to check what exactly did the truck carry – which was at least a ton of petrol. Little did Vance knew that the insanity was just beginning. The Dark Lord simply had to levitate the truck, while both of them stood on top of it, wandlessly of course, because who needed wands?! The mercenary turned retainer felt his face twitch as they flew low above the roofs of all kinds of buildings with no one the wiser.

Their destination? The lair of one of the most dangerous people in that part of Europe. The reason? They were going to attack it frontally. In the middle of the day.

The sheer audacity was what he should have expected from a Dark Lord. However, that didn't make him fell any better. It didn't help that through their connection, Vance could feel his Lord's sheer amusement and eager anticipation! The madman was looking up for this!

After twenty minutes of flying, the Dark Lord waved a hand and the roof of the trucks cabin tore away. Ignatius had just a moment of horrified realization that if hurled their way before his master grabbed his hand and jumped pulling along. A moment later they were standing upon the roof with the fuel truck ascending above them.

"Brace yourself, we're in position." The order snapped him back into attention and he looked down.

One of the buildings below looked like the description they got from the vampire his lord captured. Ignatius shuddered at the thought of what happened to the bloodsucker. While he didn't like the bloody undead, what his Lord did for information and to figure out what could harm this particular kind of unliving... Vance had seen some nasty shite in his day, but what happened last night...

He shouldn't have given the oath of allegiance. Now his fate was bound to that of his Lord and... there was no more time for his pity party. The Dark Lord slapped the back of his head and pointed at the target building with his wand. Ignatius nodded and they began casting – anti-apparation jinxes, anti-portkey curses, wide area concealment and notice-me-not charms. Once they were done, the fuel truck flew past them like a missile and smashed through the roof of the building like a battering ram. A few seconds later a purple lighting bold followed through the hole and the ground floor of the four story building simply disintegrated in a fiery explosion that collapsed the whole thing.

Vance caught his Lord casting spells – flame-freezing and bubble-head charm and hastily followed his example mere moments before their makeshift platform flew them towards the disaster site below. It was just now that he noticed that he didn't simply fall from the acceleration despite not casting a sticking charm – either to the jagged piece of metal they stood upon or earlier, on the fuel truck.

A weird sensation, as if entering underwater surrounded them both and Ignatius could barely perceive a shimmering shield forming around them just before they plunged into the black flames.

The Dark Lord waved his hands and tons of rubble covered with burning petrol moved as if they were mere bits of dirty soil banished by an irate housewife. The mercenary could feel when they passed through the charms protecting the place, which were a mere nuisance – nothing like what Cherni described during his interrogation. Whatever that shield was combined with the improvised air-strike undoubtedly not only weakened them but shook or even broke some of the rune-clusters anchoring them in place.

Soon enough they were in the centre of the inferno. The Dark Lord waved a hand and the burning petrol sloshed away along with the acrid black smoke allowing them to see the broken ceiling of the bomb shelter below. Vance blinked at the strikingly intact front of the truck – his Lord must have cast an unbreakable charm on it when he wasn't paying attention. It had battered its way through the thick reinforced concrete that should have been able to survive the crash.

Vance shook his head. It wasn't important. What mattered was that their target's sanctuary was breached. His Lord jumped down and landed within a lake of burning fuel, which he merely directed into the shelter. Ignatius shook his head, cast the appropriate charm upon himself and jumped too, letting the magic protect him.

What followed had little in common with the pitched battle Vance expected. Even during the day, especially during the day, a vampire's lair was exceptionally well defended. However, the sudden attack, a river of burning petrol, stone transfigured into silver blades of garlic powder – the latter being a spell he taught his Lord last night, combined with the odd Incendo, banisher or wandless lighting produced by the Dark Lord saw the few goons they met either torn to pieces or turned into human-shaped torches.

Less than a minute after they got in and two massive doors torn from their hinges with merely a gesture later, saw them face to back with Ivanov who was about to jump through an open floo. The Vampire actually managed to jump, only to be caught in an invisible grip and hurled at the far wall, which he struck hard enough to shatter the wood panelling before bouncing from the concrete below.

"Loot, then burn." The Dark Lord ordered and nodded to a torn door that led deeper into what turned out to be a very expensively furnished suite.

"As you command, My Lord!" Vance snapped at attention.

Behind them he could hear screams of pain and rage.

"Go." His Lord prompted. He was already casting stunning and binding spells upon the vampire.

It took Vance a few minutes to make sure, however he couldn't get at anything of real value. What should have been the office was charmed to hell and back – not something he could just break into without a long study of all the magics layered upon that room. The same was true for the bedroom. In fact the only things of value he could retrieve were the antique looking furniture, some paintings and a bar that was very well stocked with all kinds of expensive alcohol. Thanks to a few enchanted bags, Vance did manage to get a lot of the more expensive looking stuff in a short amount of time before returning to the room with the floo. He did so just in time to see the Dark Lord pointing his left hand at the corridor leading at the other parts of the bomb shelter and unleashing a wall of blinding lighting that entirely filled up the passage. Short lived howls of pain told him that time was running out.

The most disturbing part was that Vance could feel echoes of the suffering that the Dark Lord's enemies experienced under his tender ministration, along with the dark pleasure that the man felt while destroying them. If there had been any doubt in his mind about what exactly his Lord was, Chernev's interrogation and today's massacre, erased them.

"My Lord, I can't get into the office. It's too well protected." Vance admitted, half expecting a vicious punishment.

"Not unexpected." The Dark Lord said. For a moment he concentrated on the corridor before he brought it down with a mere gesture. He did the same smashing the floo too. "Look over our new friend. I'll see what I can do about the office." With those parting words the Dark Lord strode deeper in the suit.

Vance glanced pityingly at the bound unconscious vampire then levelled his wand at the collapsed corridor. He only hopped that they would be out of this place before the Aurors showed up in force.


	10. Chapter 4 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Unintended consequences**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **13 January 1986**

 **Ivanov's lair**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Defensive charms, hexes and curses – why no one have created an overall term for those when placed on an object or place, like wards or perhaps shields, I would never know. Anyway, we got to learn a lot about those in Drumstrang, especially the darker and nastier ones. It took me only a cursory examination to confirm my minion's words – getting into the office conventionally would require either hours of examination and careful dismantling of the defences, Ivanov to let us in or... Well, there was one thing I learned a long time ago on Korriban that aligned with what Dimitri was taught in his school. While skill is always important, vital even, there was no substitute for raw, overwhelming power.

I gathered the Force around me until the very air began to tremble with power. I took a deep breath, concentrated on the energy swirling around me and focused into thin spears of gleaming light and suffocating darkness, which I hurled at the office. The defences did retaliate – cutting charms and withering curses flew my way followed by a wall of Dark Magic that moved a bit slower.

They were fast, yet they moved much slower than blaster bolts. I didn't bother getting out-of-the-way and instead sheared off a large section of the floor to use as a barrier, then snapped a wall made of the Force itself behind it. The cutting curses sliced through parts of the concrete before losing coherence and harmlessly splashing over my shield; the curses on the other hand not so slowly turned part of the barrier into so much dust. Then the Dark Magic slammed into my improvised defence and simply ate through the parts of the floor I had in front of me. That was decidedly nasty stuff. Then it hit my Force barrier and not only pushed it back but began to warp it from the sheer stress. I responded by channelling more power into my shield and managed to stabilize it shortly before I would have had to make myself scarce.

Note to self, learn more about curse breaking and breaching other people's defences when the time allowed. That or find the money to hire proper specialists...

I shook away those thoughts and redoubled my attack upon the office. More spears of Force energy – both Light and Dark slammed into its walls where I could sense the greatest concentration of magic. The defences did retaliate, however my shield held. My rough estimation of what I was dealing with made me raise an eyebrow – what the office threw at me was somewhat comparable to a bloody artillery barrage, though that came mostly from the wall of Dark Magic constantly attacking me.

I wasn't sure if my attacks were responsible or if the defences simply ran out of juice long before I did, however soon enough the onslaught slamming into my shield lessened before drying up. Once it stopped completely, I took no chances and used the force to shear through the walls of the office and hopefully any enchantments anchored to them.

There were more defences inside, layered over the desk and the various file cabinets. Overwhelming power did help, however various charms saw more than half the files and small treasures either burned to ash or melted. No matter, I got everything I could into a pair of expanded bags and made my way back to Vance.

"We have a problem, My Lord. Someone put quite powerful anti-apparation and portkey fields above us."

"Aurors or more of Ivanov's goons?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" Vance asked.

That was a good question. While some of our actions up to date were certainly illegal, we haven't clashed with the law yet. I smiled. Dimitri Veil had to be an upstanding citizen. The Dark Lord of the Sith on the other hand...

"That would be up to them. Don't misplace our new friend. You know where's our new camp and don't forget to lay a false trail before going there. I'll make a distraction if I have to."

"Yes, My Lord." Vance nodded in relief.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

Chief Auror Pchelarski glared at the utter mess he had to deal with. Someone dared demolish a whole building using magic, in the middle of the day, in the bloody capital of his country! To make things worse, he knew what was below it – it wasn't exactly a secret where Stephan Ivanov had his lair, it was just that he was the closest thing to an untouchable criminal in the whole country – solid political backing, excellent advocates and the worst thing – he was careful to keep his hands clean. He had people to do the crimes for him and none of those talked.

The bastard just had to piss off a Dark Lord too, because who else would risk the Statues of Secrecy in such a cavalier way! Not to mention that attacking a vampire's lair, especially the one of someone like Ivanov would take a small army at the best of circumstances!

Alexander heard shouting from the left and glanced in that direction. A squad of his Aurors and a bunch of what had to be Ivanov's day goons had their wands out and pointed at each other. At least there were more and more Aurors coming all the time – the whole quick reaction force of twenty was already in place making sure the muggles would be kept out of it, busy containing the fires and making sure no one was going to just apparate or portkey away.

The ground rumbled under his feet and what was left of the burning building collapsed in a shower of debris and clouds of suffocating concrete and brick dust that were enough to cut visibility to practically zero. Alexander cursed and began casting. A bubble head charm was first then various detection spells. Moments later his Aurors lit in green visible despite the grey haze surrounding them all. The seven goons turned red and fortunately they were smart enough not to cast at his people... and three red signatures floated from the centre of the destroyed building.

"Halt! Aurors! You are under arrest!" An Auror shouted.

"My work here is done. Let us be and I'll return the favour." A voice thundered making Alexander wince. The Obliviators were going to earn their pay today.

"We can't do that! Surrender or else!" Another Auror shouted and Pchelarski felt like face-palming. You simply never told something like that to a suspected Dark Lord.

Purple light illuminated the dust clouds. Merlin damn it! "Cast away, take them down!" Alexander snapped and followed his own order.

A barrage of charms, hexes, jinxes and outright curses flew at the three floating figures. Two of them shot in the air as if propelled by a monstrously powerful banisher and soon passed through the edge of the anti-apparation and anti-portkey field. Moments later they popped away. That had to be the Dark Lords people, perhaps Ivanov too if he went for capturing another prisoner. That most likely left...

"Shield and scatter!" The Chief Auror roared and rolled away from where he stood. If he was right...

Thunder roared, blinding torrents of lighting – both light and dark purple slashed through the dust clouds and it was only sheer blind luck and reflexes born from years on the job that kept Alexander from getting fried where he stood. He saw the green signatures of his people scattering, some freezing in place and others flying back as if struck by battering rams. The same was true for Ivanov's goons – those simply vanished under a virtual purple storm.

The sheer fury of the onslaught was enough to disperse most of the cloud and the Chief Auror blanched at what he saw. The Dark Lord stood upon a piece of concrete that floated about twenty metres in the air. A rotating barrier made of all kinds of debris, some of which were still burning surrounded him, however all that was a mere sideshow. What focuses Alexander's mind was the oppressive sense of unbound Dark Magic that shrouded the man like a cloak.

Pchelarski had seen Voldemort at his worst during one of his recruiting tours through Europe. This... this was worse. So much darkness... what infernal rituals did this madman dabble in to gain such power?!

"I won't warn you again!" The Dark Lord's voice thundered. "Next time I won't be so forgiving."

He shot in the air along with all the debris surrounding him until he was past the anti-apparation field, then banished all that crap at the Aurors before popping away. Alexander cursed and began casting at the incoming barrage.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

 **13 January 1986**

 **Ivanov's lair**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Obliviators ran all over the place along with disaster relief personnel – both magical and Muggle. The whole district was cordoned by the Milicia after a call to the liaison with the Muggle government, who were understandably unhappy. The Minister of Magic wasn't happy, his major backers were even less happy, which meant that Director Malinova was under tremendous pressure to make the problem go away. Soon enough the ICW might sent representatives to demonstrate their mood too and it wasn't going to be stellar.

"Pchelarski, report!" The Director barked after locating her Chief Auror. She found him sitting on the pavement being treated by a Medi-witch for shallow wounds caused by debris.

Alexander glanced at the healer and waved her away before twisting his right wrist to retrieve his wand from his holster. He cast a few privacy charms and did as instructed. "We've got a real Dark Lord on our hands, all right." Pchelarski grumbled. Two or three people hit Ivanov's lair, wiped out a large group of his goons along with more than a hundred civilians who worked either in this building," he pointed at the crater behind him, "one of the surrounding ones or got caught on the street."

Lydia closed her eyes and cursed viciously. Yaga's sagged tits, what did that bloodsucker do to provoke a Dark Lord into something like this?!

"They either got Ivanov or one of the attackers got wounded during the assault. I'm betting on the former. We got people into what's left of his living quarters – they got away mostly intact and there are sings they were searched for something."

"Blackmail material? Something the Dark Lord needed or simple opportunity?" Malinova listed the first options that came to mind.

"Unknown at this time, Director." Alexander sighed and proceeded to explain exactly what happened when the Dark Lord came out.

"Get your ass to HQ and ready your memories for viewing. We'll need to be better prepared the next time." Malinova ordered. When the Chief Auror was done and she saw the memories herself, Lydia was convinced that she would be requesting from Kniajev to call ICW assistance.

The kind of magic displayed today – it was a statement as much as anything else. And that message to her Aurors, it made her blood boil. She looked around and though about everything she knew so far. The Dark Lord's first appearance – he went after that were alpha, who in turn worked for Ivanov. The werewolf was likely causing trouble for one of the Veela sanctuaries... and at least one of the girls there knew the Dark Lord. A lover or perhaps an ally? If that was the case, this was far from over. Lydia knew very well the kind of pressure her department was under concerning the Veelas. The Dark Lord was unlikely to stop before he either made a deal to his liking or resolved the issue, which meant that he would likely go after one of the Minister's backers once he was done interrogating Ivanov – she couldn't assume that the vampire managed to get himself killed and thus bought her time to prepare better before the next débâcle.

The Director scowled. She had to talk with the Minister and it was going to be one unpleasant conversation.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **13 January 1986**

 **Veil's camp**

 **unplottable location**

 **Pirin Mountains**

 **Bulgaria**

Searing pain brought Stephan back to the world of the living. He choked on the stench of fucking garlic and tried to get away from it only to slice his skin on something sharp and stinging. It took him long painful moments to figure out he was bound with heavy chains that bit into his flesh every time he attempted to move.

"You'll pay for this!" The vampire snarled. His eyes snapped open and he glared around.

Ivanov found himself bound to what felt like a metal chair that stood in the middle of a forest clearing. There were two tents in front of him with a merrily burning fire between them. A man wearing black hooded robes sat on a terribly out-of-place armchair with another standing next to the open flames where he cooked a large chunk of meat on a split over the fireplace.

"I wouldn't?" An amused question came from the sitting man.

He put away a parchment he was reading from and leaned forward to look better at Stephan. The stranger waved a hand and powdered garlic flew from a large sack the vampire didn't notice until now. The Hades damned thing flew right into his face and open wounds making him scream and choke. Ivanov coughed and spat until his mouth was clear of the vile substance, which burned worse than garlic had any right to!

"You'll die screaming for this, wizard! Do you have any idea who I am?!" Stephan glared at his tormentor. He had friends and allies who would see this man made an example of! His fate would be a legendary cautionary tale!

The man in black raised a gloved hand and looked at it. Shadows exploded from his flesh and coalescented into a pulsing ball of darkness, which he threw at Stephan.

Ivanov recoiled, however his chains were too tightly bound and heavy, the chair – too secure for him to have a chance. The strange magic slammed into his face and he howled as it ate not just his flesh but struck his very mind.

Being a vampire should have offered him some substantial protection against the mind arts. Whatever this was, it clawed right at his very sanity with claws colder than the grave.

"You misunderstand your purpose, my friend. You will die, here, once I'm done with you. The only question is how much entertainment value I would extract with you. So please, do resist. It will make things more fun – for me."

His captor made a gesture and Stephan felt his bones shatter. Something clawed at his mind again and more garlic flew into his screaming mouth.

"Please, tell me about Ilia Gorski."

The old vampire resisted, he really tried to spite the mother fucker torturing him. Yet, long before dawn on the fourteenth of January, he broke and told the monster everything he wanted to know. When the sun came, Stephan gladly accepted its burning embrace.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **13 January 1986**

 **The Minister's office**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

Director Malinova looked from the Minister to Ilia Gorski, who Kniajev insisted to be present for her report. The two wizards couldn't be more different from each other.

Kniajev was a small shifty man who looked ridiculous behind the old ornate desk that had been in this office form more centuries than Lydia cared to count. The Minister's biggest claim to fame was that he was an honest politician – once Gorski and his allies bought him, he stayed bought. It was too bad that the Director could never get enough evidence that could get them all behind bars.

In contrast to the Minister, the old noble was solidly built and tall – he stood just shy of two metres and even in his seventies he was a mountain of muscles. There was nothing in his appearance that her thin Veela blood could object on. It was too bad that he had the personality of a particularly irate troll when he wasn't trying to show his best side – which she was pretty sure was a mere mask for the masses.

Rumour had it that Gorski was a complete and utter bastard who didn't shy from dirtying his hands. Unfortunately, everything Lydia had on him after more than two decades as an Auror and five years as Director was merely circumstantial. Certainly nothing that could ever stick to someone with that man's connections and wealth.

It didn't help that every time he thought Lydia wasn't paying attention, Gorski's pale eyes stared at her as if she was a piece of meat served for a feast. The hunger and dark promises in his gaze were enough to make her want to curse him into the next week and only her solid Occlumency training allowed her to keep that desire to herself.

"That's my official report, gentlemen." The Director finished and gave them a few moments to digest the information.

The way the Minister glanced at Gorski when Lydia voiced her theory about the Dark Lord's aims told her a lot. It was Gorski who pestered the Veelas, wasn't it? Either that or he and Kniajev were facilitating the desires of one of their other friends. The moment she could get away from the office, Lydia would be going to visit some of her own allies. If she found any proof that either Gorski or one of his cronies brought a Dark Lord upon their collective heads...

"I want him found!" Kniajev eventually found his voice – which wasn't an improvement to the silence with, which he listened to her report. His voice wasn't quite panicked, yet it betrayed his near terror. This man certainly wasn't the kind of Minister the country needed when there was a Dark Lord on the loose. "I want him dealt with!"

"We'll do our best." The today's carnage guaranteed it. "It very well may not be enough. I must make a formal request for ICW aid in this matter, Minister Kniajev. The abilities this Dark Lord already demonstrated... There were more than twenty of our Aurors against him today and he got away without breaking a sweat. We need help."

"I'll see what I can do..." Kniajev stammered.

Curious. He suddenly looked more scared from a possible ICW intervention than the Dark Lord who might decide to pay him a visit. Perhaps the Minister hoped to be bought and thus avoid further problems on that front, something that was unlikely to happen if the ICW sent agents.

The Director suppressed a sigh. She would have to keep even closer eye on Kniajev's actions from now on.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Headmaster's Office**

 **Hogwarts**

 **United Kingdom**

"That's not nice, Fawkes!" Albus Dumbledore pouted at his familiar. The Phoenix trilled cheerfully and flamed away when the old wizard tried to snatch the cup with his favourite lemon drops.

The Fire Bird appeared upon a nearby cupboard along with the sweets and preened.

"I'll let you know, lemon drops are perfectly fine for my health!" Fawkes tilted his head to the side and sang a negative note.

"Fine, be like that!" Albus smiled and retrieved a lemon drop from the top right drawer of his desk. He popped it in his mouth relishing on the bitter taste and smirked at his familiar. Every few weeks after his burning day, Fawkes acted like a typical teenager – getting into trouble and not listening when told what to do.

This January was no exception of that rule.

At least it was never boring, though it could be occasionally vexing – like winter eighty-three, when Fawkes hid all of Albus' woollen socks. That was unpleasant. Despite all the magic seeped in Hogwarts' floors and walls, the old castle was a chilly place during the winter and warming charms could do only so much. There was simply no substitute for warm clothes and real fire in the depth of winter.

Albus let his too energetic familiar be and returned his attention to the bane of his existence – the tons of paperwork that came with the three positions he had to deal with – two of which got forced upon him decades ago and considering the alternative candidates, he never dared refuse them. The Headmaster sighed – being here in Hogwarts, running the school and teaching, that was what he ever wanted but it was not meant to be. There were too many distractions to deal with, too many problems and political games that he was ill suited for that distracted him all the time.

He glanced at the huge stack of parchment he had yet to go through – and that was just school related. He already went over one even larger that had to do with his position as a beast wrangler for the animals masking as Wizengamot members and he didn't even want to think about the ICW related paperwork...

Unfortunately, the ICW apparently thought about him, which was never a good thing. Albus groaned and got up from his comfortable plush chair – it was in a mood improving plump colour today. The alarm charm connected with one of the safes in the office demanded his attention. He got his want out and dismissed the security charms, made a large file cabinet move and then placed his left palm upon a certain brick that scanned both his blood and magical signature. When that was done, a row of bricks parted to reveal a metal cube that looked like it was melted into the wall. A long complicated chant later, the steel moved as if it was water to reveal various parchments and a few small devices.

Albus waved his wand again and the parchment he needed floated out. It was enchanted so only certain members of the ICW could read it – those directly responsible for the Wizarding world's security. He read the message and blanched.

"Another one?!" What did he do to deserve to see a third Dark Lord rise in his time?!

The Headmaster's eyes snapped to a certain shelf behind his desk where various devices monitored Harry Potter's state. As far as they were concerned, the boy was all right and the protections at his home were intact.

Good. Now, what to do... Should he call a few people from the old crowd to go monitor Harry just in case Tom was back or if this new Dark Lord wanted to make a name for himself by going after the child who vanquished his predecessor?

No. Harry was safe for now – no Dark Lord would find him in the Muggle world. Obscurity was a vital second layer of defence.

Albus retrieved a portkey from the safe, sealed it back up and called for an elf – he had to tell Minerva he was leaving the castle.


	11. Chapter 4 Parts 7&8

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Unintended consequences**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **ICW Headquarters**

 **Geneva**

 **Switzerland**

The International Confederacy of Wizards possessed large properties on each continent. Despite what some of the organization's detractors often and loudly claimed, there actually was a proper purpose for that fact, beyond the admitted hubris and need to show off that some members were guilty of. Each regular session was usually held at a different place – in order not to offend too much any single magical government, which while true enough, wasn't the primary reason. Each of the seven large complexes held by the ICW was a verifiable fortress, meant not only to keep safe representatives from every notable magical country on the face of the Earth but also a battalion of War Wizards, their support staff as well as all the departments that ensured that the ICW could actually function.

In theory the Confederacy was a grand idea. It was meant to reshape the Wizarding World for the better; unfortunately, reality fell rather short from that ambitious goal. That fact was never more painfully apparent to Albus Dumbledore than the times when another Dark Lord was suspected to be on the rise. Fifty years ago, when he was still in his prime, the ICW for once did live up to its lofty mandate during the war against Grindelwald. Then, just a few short decades later, during Voldemort's rise, that same organization, this time with him technically in charge, suffered one of the greatest failures in its history... Albus saw it coming from afar, did his best to prevent it, yet it was all for naught. He was afraid that history would repeat itself.

It was with those grim thoughts that he arrived at one of the secure protkey locations in the Geneva ICW HQ. Moments before he appeared within a featureless black room, the old wizard felt magic latching on the portkey's signature, probing and testing him. The formidable defences did recognize him and merely deposited him on his feet with a sensation similar to a brief splash through ice-cold water, which was ironically appropriate considering the building's location – right beneath lake Geneva.

The obsidian wall facing Dumbledore drained away as if made by black ink and revealed a long corridor guarded by a pair of War Wizards kitted in their official green battle-robes, which made them with golden light when looked through Albus' enchanted spectacles. The pair of soldiers saluted, but only after scanning him in order to confirm that the defences built into the corridor told them – he wasn't an imposter.

"Investigator Loren is waiting for you, sir." The younger War Wizard said.

Dumbledore merely nodded to the soldiers and strode past them with a determined gait. He hoped to reach the people he came to meet without any complications, but that soon proved to be a forlorn hope. Albus wasn't the only one to arrive, summoned by news of a possible Dark Lord on the rise and some of the company he could have done without.

A wizard even older than Dumbledore came from a nearby portkey point and the man offered a mirthless smile that displayed two rows of shining teeth. The tanned Italian practically radiated dark magic – Albus didn't need his mage sight, nor the charms attached to his spectacles to see the taint left by excessive use of the Dark Arts.

"Albus." The man greeted in an amiable tone, that once upon a time was enough to fool Dumbledore.

"Duc Albertini." He responded frostily.

The Milanese man preened at Albus' tone. Duc Jonas Albertini always relished when he was able to get under Mugwump's skin and given their history, that was an easy feat for the Italian.

"Here to persecute another man for practising magic you personally find offensive?" The Italian sneered and let his jovial mask fall to show the cunning Dark Wizard it hid from the unwary.

"I'm here to prevent another monster from burning most of Europe." Dumbledore shot back even though he knew it was a bad idea. His years of had earned experience did little to keep his temper in check when dealing with the likes of Albertini. That was just another proof that he was way over his head... it had been that way since he defeated Gellert all those years ago and suddenly found himself forced to either take the positions that people fell over each other to offer him or see them reach in the hands of monsters that in one way or another could be as bad or worse than Grindelwald. At least his friend did what he did with the best of intentions as a motivation. Many of the powerful people Dumbledore had to deal with in the ICW meetings didn't have such an excuse.

The Duc was a perfect example – in a better world he would be rotting in a much nastier cell than the one Albus consigned Gellert to. He knew that the man staring at him was almost as rotten as Voldemort at his worst, unfortunately he couldn't do a thing to him. At least not in a legally.

That was the ICW's dirty little secret, perhaps the dirtiest – when the organization was formed, almost half of the countries that joined were ruled by Dark Wizards, with two confirmed Dark Lords in their own right. When you knew that truth, it was easy to explain why most of the time the organization was less than effective when battling the dark in its many pervasive forms. After all, many of the people who were needed to vote against various excesses and approve action were guilty of the same, sometimes even worse than the cases presented in open ICW sessions. It was usually only when someone proved themselves to be too much of a threat and didn't want to play ball with the ICW assembly when there was overt action. Ironically enough, Gellert's actions made things both better and worse, for everyone. It was because of Dumbledore's old friend that no one was in a hurry to unleash the War Wizards against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There were too many representatives on the ICW Council who were sympathetic with that despicable agenda and the worst thing was that Albus could see where they were coming from.

Gellert was a Wizarding supremacist. He didn't give a damn about the purity of blood flowing in anyone's veins. Only magic mattered and with that mindset it was easy to see why Muggleborns and Half-Bloods from across the world flowed behind his banner like a tidal wave. The resulting decades of war shattered most of the Magical Governments in Europe and polarized the rest, something that was most obvious in MACUSA and the Italian Confederation. Both had states where Muggleborn were legally second hand citizens at best and their governments had to tread very carefully to avoid their internal troubles erupting in an outright civil war.

The Duc stared at Dumbledore for long moments before shaking his head. His aristocratic features stretched in a condescending smirk. "We won't let another Grindelwald rise to power, that much you can count on, Supreme Mugwump."

That much Dumbledore didn't doubt. Albertini was one of the many ICW representative who were blood purists. He would love to see another Voldemort come to power, though if he ever sensed a sniff of someone with an agenda similar to Gellert's, then the Duc would be opposing that person with everything he was, which was a problem, considering that he was one of the biggest movers and shakers in the Italian Confederacy.

Just to rum salt in the wound, Albertini was on the committee overseeing dealing with Dark Lords. His vote was _needed_ before the War Wizards could be unleashed unless someone was insane enough to directly attack the ICW's interests, which meant one of their facilities or representatives when said wizard and witch was operating on official ICW business.

Albus swallowed a frustrated sigh. It was men like this that had run him ragged ever since the early fifties. There were days when he regretted not standing by Gellert of all things, because he despaired for the future of the Wizarding world.

"I'm sure." Dumbledore eventually bit off and walked past his hated colleague. He had a potential Dark Lord to deal with and magic willing, he might be able to do something about that. Merlin knew, he couldn't do much more than merely inconvenience Albertini. If he was still in his prime, if he wasn't haunted by his conscience and the horrors he had to commit during Gellert's war... but then Albus would have been another man and for all he knew, the world could be in an even worse shape.

Dumbledore didn't even notice when his feet brought him to the Investigators' offices, which were currently a madhouse of flying papers and soothingly glowing patroni, that darted every which way. Witches and wizards were busy gathering and compiling information from all across the continent, trying to confirm the existence of a new powerful Dark Lord and figure out where the man came from if he actually existed, something that was a given, considering that the Investigators summoned both him and the Italian bastard.

Investigator Helga Loren, the witch in charge of this particular madhouse noticed Albus' arrival and smiled briefly, before she saw who walked right behind him and promptly scowled. The ageing woman was just past her prime and few years out of active field, which was one of the things that made her ideal for the job – she intimately knew how the real world worked. She carried her brown curls in a short professional cut, just as she did as an active agent when a longer hair could have proven a distraction at best and a weakness to be exploited at worst. Her large expressive eyes now glared balefully at Albertini – a legacy from her multiple attempts to pin something on the man, attempts that on three notable occasions nearly ended her career thanks to the man's various patrons and partners in crime.

"Investigator Loren." Dumbledore gave the witch a pointed look.

Helga didn't show any sign that she noticed it and just continued to glare. Hopefully she did and would keep anything truly sensitive as far away from Albertini for as long as legally possible.

"Sir. Please follow me. I have a preliminary briefing ready." Loren spoke in a clipped, frosty tone and waved the wizards to follow her.

Fifteen minutes later, Dumbledore knew for a fact that there was a new powerful player in Europe, one that apparently wasn't particularly concerned by the Statutes of Secrecy if his latest stunt in Bulgaria was anything to go by. What no one knew was the motivation of the man; there wasn't even a hit of his agenda besides potentially working with or for certain Veelas in Bulgaria. That by itself was the only silver lining that came to light during the briefing – most blood purists certainly wouldn't be going out of their way to help any Veela, they saw them as creatures to use at best. At worst, well, after what Dumbledore saw during both wars he had to fight with, that didn't really bare thinking about.

Well, that wasn't really the only bright spot. Albertini appeared less than pleased by the report.

"Inform me the moment we have any more information about that man!" The Duc ordered. For a couple of seconds, Dumbledore saw unease in the Italian's eyes before the man could lock down his emotions. Curiously enough, it was the speculation that the new Dark Lord managed to spirit away his last target along with possibly some of the vampire's records that upset Albertini. It was most curious and something that Albus was sure Helga noted too.

In the end, something good might just come from this new mess, especially if Albertini found it prudent to vote for ICW intervention. Who knew what the Investigators might run into while investigating the Dark Lord haunting Bulgaria. With the man going after that vampire, looking close into his dealings might just be the best way to proceed with the investigation...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 8**

 **=TSA=**

 **15 January 1986**

 **Varshenski Manor**

 **Location Unplottable**

 **Bulgaria**

A large glass dome surrounded the gardens at the back of the ancestral seat of the Varshenski family. Muggle engineering, charms and careful rune-work made it so that the hot house was both invisible for anyone standing outside the protections covering the manor and the temperature inside comfortable no matter the time of the year. Those convenient facts made the gardens Sylvia's favourite place when she was home. For years now she had a small personal retreat in one corner, which was hidden by dutifully maintained hedges, right behind the colourful section with tropical plants – both mundane and magical. It was a place where she could often relax and work at peace, away from nosy family members and the many people vying for her time. A stack of parchment sitting at the left side of her table was proof of that – half of it were invitations to attend one function or another, with most of the others requests of advise or business proposals, including outlines of marriage contracts.

While Sylvia was no spring chicken, her Veela ancestry made it so that even in her late fifties she locked as if she could be her own daughter, though most of those who sent the proposals were more interested in her political power and family assets. Her looks were a mere bonus.

However, a few days ago she received a missive from an unexpected source. Irina was an old acquaintance – while not exactly a friend, the old Veela was someone you listened to when she decided to give you an advice or make a suggestion. It seemed that the ancient bird decided to finally do something about the people bothering her sanctuary and charges. At first, Sylvia believed that Irina merely hired a group of talented mercenaries, however what happened lately in Sofia, told a different story. Who knew that she had a genuine Dark Lord owning her a favour or two?

What Sylvia didn't know was the why of said man's actions. Was he this pissed off at someone bothering Irina or did he simply decide that this was a good time to make a public debute? What was his agenda? She needed to know where she stood with the Dark Lord. That's why she considered following Irina's suggestion and granting him an audience, though she naturally wouldn't word it that way. It was known that Dark Lords were short tempered creatures, easy and quick to take offence.

Varshenska summoned a fresh piece of parchment along with her writing supplies and began writing – to Irina and certain family members she had to consult both before and after speaking with the Dark Lord. Her family barely survived Grindelwald – she would be damned if she didn't do her best to keep them out of the line of fire this time.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Veela sanctuary**

 **Pirin Mountains**

 **location Unplottable**

Once again, Irina met the man who she hired in her office. While her friends and acquaintances in Sofia relied the rumours of him being a Dark Lord of all things, it wasn't until his latests stunt that she actually believed it. The way he apparently procured Ivanov to interrogate him was proof enough. There were a lot of pictures of the aftermath of Veil's last visit to the capital in the paper and rampant speculation about who he was and what he wanted.

The latter she wanted to know as well. As a rule, Dark Lords didn't work as common mercenaries, which in turn begged the question why did he accept her offer. The money wasn't enough to entice one of his kind. What else would he demand and would she dare decline it? The fact was that Irina did make a deal with him and those who crossed Dark Lords tended to up in a gruesome manner. It wasn't like she could turn to the Ministry for help – considering whose toes Veil was kicking with steel tipped boots, they were the last people who would help her if she called.

She had to tread very carefully now. If Irina was lucky, Veil might turn out to be a useful ally to know or the doom of her and her charges.

Speaking of the devil, the door of her office opened and Maria showed the Dark Lord in.

"Delkatar!" Irina exclaimed cheerfully and regally got up to greet him.

"Irina. I come bringing welcome news." Possibly a gift too – he had a small bag in his left hand. "Ivanov won't darken your doorstep again. I picked up a few interesting documents while retrieving him too." He levitated the bag and gently placed it on her desk.

"That's splendid!" Irina gushed and loosened the restrains of her allure.

The signs were subtle, however it was obvious Veil was affected, though he managed to control himself just as he did during their previous meetings. The man briefly scanned the room and saw the paper on her desk, thus proving that if she had to really influence him, Irina might have to really let lose.

"Have they already proclaimed me a Dark Lord?" He inquired.

"That they did. Are they wrong?" She licked her lips putting up a show that she found the very idea simply arousing instead of equally disturbing and enticing as expected. As a Veela she was drawn to power.

"Not at all. Is that a problem?" The man smirked.

"Being a Dark Lord? Not necessary." Irina purred. "What are your views and intentions towards my people?" She released her hold over her allure even further.

Veil's pupils dilated and he flushed for a moment before an unexpected burst of cold wind exploded from him.

"A most curious ability, your allure. To think it can affect the likes of me..." His irises turned yellow, not dissimilar of a werewolf and Dark Magic flooded the room.

It was dangerous, wicked and enticing, it sent a surge of heat and desire through the Veela's body.

"To answer your question, I have no particular designs upon your people, though in time I might require your services as spies and agents. Well paid ones at that." He paused and his shining eyes roamed up and down her frame. "That's as a Dark Lord. As a straight, red blooded male, well, my desires should be obvious, should the lady be willing." He wigged his eyebrows suggestively. "I'm curious to see what your unrestrained allure can do to me."

Was he leading her on? He did ask for it though... Besides, one had to keep his friends close and his potential enemies – perhaps even closer.

Irina smiled. "I find myself curious too." Her own eyes shone with silver light as her magic demanded to claim the source of power who willingly walked in her sanctum. Irina let go of her restrain and the full power of her allure exploded from her frame. Her skin glowed softly, making it softer and more sensitive. Magic sparkled through her hair making it wave as if brushed by invisible light. She waked around her desk to come closer to the Dark Lord – slowly, enticingly all the while she stared in his eyes.

By now most people would have turned into blubbering, drooling mess or jumped her. The Dark Lord did neither. The aura of Dark Magic surrounding him became tangible and delicious. The amount of power at display, it strokes Irina's own desire higher.

"I wondered, you know." Veil spoke in a strained voice. Shadows and what looked like black smoke that had a mind of his own rose from all corners of the room and swirled around him. "A most curious ability indeed." He added in a more controlled voice.

Irina grinned. Someone this powerful who could actually resist the full power of her allure – it both scared her and made him all the more desirable a target. "Isn't it, mi-lord? I can assure you, the whole package is much better."

"A bold claim." Veil smiled too. "Shall we put it to the test?"


	12. Chapter 5 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Political entanglements**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Varshenski manor**

 **Location Unplottable**

It must be said, fooling around with an eager Veela was a threat ever for someone who had sampled all the best entertainment a whole galaxy had to offer. A combination of Irina's magic and her skills made for a memorable and exhausting night. Judging by his expression in the morning, my minion got lucky too.

I was almost reluctant to leave the sanctuary when Irina got a message from her acquaintance that she would be gracious enough to meet me. That's how we found ourselves within an extensive garden that reminded me of the Tarkin's estate on Eriadu. The primary difference was that this time around, the crystal dome protected the plants and any visitors merely from the weather, not pollution left rampant for centuries until it destroyed most of the biosphere.

I wasn't sure if it was Dimitri's memories or the fact that I've seen all kinds of weird flora on hundreds of worlds, however while nice, even the large magical section of the garden wasn't really anything to write home about. It was all matter of perspective I guess. What was notable was the fact that the various magical plants radiated enough magic that they would make it harder to detect someone spelled to be hidden among them, which was a nice security precaution.

From the get go, Varshenska proved that she wasn't a complete idiot. The retainer who met us after a timed portkey delivered us at the edge of the manor's defences invited us in and led us to meet his mistress moved with a predatory gait that one could gain only through extensive training and experience. When we got to the gardens, I could see wizards and witches spread through the place and all of them wore duelling robes. All that was on top of the enchantments protecting the place. I knew for a fact that once invited in any self-respecting magical house, you raised your wand upon your host at your own peril. Even protections that would be relatively simple and easy to dismantle from the outside could be deadly if you walked in and triggered them. That in fact was one of the most important reasons why older families were not often feared but very reluctant to leave their land and more importantly, ancestral homes. Those were places where generations of magical people were born, raised and often died. Such locations were seeped with magic that made certain rituals and protections possible that would be unthinkable to pull off at more mundane places.

I could actually sense the ancient magic draped all over the manor. Its presence was dark and comforting; it reminded me of the Dark Side, without her nastier parts.

Our guide led us to a secluded glade where our host awaited. She sat at a table next to a small pond that was covered by various floating plants. The place was even better protected than the rest of the garden – it positively radiated magic, though I couldn't sense any active hostile intent so I walked right in. As a good retainer should, my minion remained outside to make company to our guide.

"Lady Varshenska." I gave her a small, proper bow, which would be considering an insult if given by someone of a minor noble house like mine to what amounted of local wizarding royalty. On the other hand, it was a sign of respect if given by a Dark Lord.

The wizarding etiquette could be bloody weird and confusing at the best of times

"Mister Veil." Our host nodded graciously. "Please accept our hospitality and be seated." Her words held a hint of ritual. Technically by offering us her hospitality she was bound not to attack us unless we provoked her first. "Refreshments?"

"Yes, thank you." I was less than polite to decline – offensive even and I was already threading a thin line as it was. In certain circles of magical society, someone of my standing requesting a meeting with the Lord or Lady of the leading Houses of any given magical country outside some specific circumstances was technically beyond my station and as such it could be considered a social faux pass at best. A few centuries ago, it would have been much, much worse.

In some respects, the wizarding world was quite feudal and only a series of Dark Lords that culminated with Grindelwald's war forced a change by murdering a significant number of the magical aristocracy that for all intents and purposes ran the whole magical world. Despite that, there were still a lot of trapping and expectations left from that system. Change didn't come easy or fast to the wizarding world. Most reasons that forced the muggle one to evolve simply passed us by.

It didn't help that I didn't know much about Varshenska. Back in the day I would have had an extensive intelligence briefing available or could have leaned on my reputation and power as a Sith. Today? I was either the scion and the Lord of a minor British House or a Dark Lord. Acting in either capacity was dangerous and limiting in different ways.

Trays with snacks, cups with coffee and tea appeared on the intricately carved wooden table between us. I sat and once the traditional exchange of small talk was done with, we could speak for the reason why I was meeting her.

"Who am I speaking with today, Mr Veil?" Varshenska asked with a refreshing bluntness after the short session of small talk.

"First, Dimitri Veil has a few concerns and then the Dark Lord has solutions to offer for a few mutual problems."

"Is that so?" She asked. Her face was a porcelain mask, not bad, though it wasn't in the same class as galaxy wide famous diplomats who had the charisma and experience to make you feel as if they did you a favour while repeatedly stabbing you in the back and then could make you publicly support their actions.

Oh how I hated those diplomatic games. At least back in the Empire, politics were somewhat different and had a refreshing bluntness to them.

"I would require reassurances that your next government wouldn't change the laws governing businesses, especially the ones concerning dealing with those who work in the both worlds and regularly shift liquid assets between the two." On the face of it, my request was simple. In practice, with various pureblood factions still going strong all over the places, the various magical governments could restrict, make much more expensive or simply close to impossible to do profitable business in both worlds – at least if you wanted to do it legally. That was what my short research and discussions with my favourite goblin indicated.

Varshenska blinked in momentarily confusion at what I asked. That certainly wasn't what a typical Dark Lord would be concerned with. They tended not to care much if at all about legality – they usually got their financial needs met in ways that the wall tried to interfere with as a matter of course. That didn't really suit me. Once I got going, I would be facing a tremendous amount of scrutiny and I needed everything to be aboveboard and naturally that meant buying the right people when the time came. Then I would expect them to stay bought, which in turn meant I needed highly placed and reasonably reliable allies in at least one if not more magical governments. That's why I jumped at the chance to mess with the Bulgarian's Ministry politics despite the danger.

"At this time I see no reason for those laws to change, however even if that was so, I have no more say than anyone else of similar station in these matters." Varshenska said. She sipped from her tea and looked at me expectantly.

"Another concern is the level of protection any new businesses I might establish under the aegis of the Bulgarian Ministry in the future, especially when the current muggle regime is concerned." I continued.

"We do have an understanding with the muggle government– we keep outside magical influences away and they generally leave us alone. However, they have the last say about any major business ventures that straddle both worlds." Varshenska explained.

While less than ideal, it wasn't like I would be in position to really get going before the time the USSR was scheduled to fly apart so that wasn't a pressing issue. I believed that for the next few years at the very least, most if not all of my business would be concentrated in the west.

"That's less than ideal but not unexpected. My other concern?"

"Something can be worked out given the correct incentives." That was the only vague answer she was willing to commit to at this stage.

"Provided that's the case, the Dark Lord, my master," I smiled at the legal fiction I wanted her to help me establish, "Has an offer and a few gifts. If I may?" I patted one of my pockets where I had copies of some interesting files I got from Ivanov's office.

Varshenska simply waved at the table. All the refreshments except her tea and my coffee, which was very good by the way, vanished. I got the documents out, unshrunk them and offered them to my hostess. It took her a few minutes to skim through the pack, all the while she kept her mask in place. What I could sense through the Force was no different – she had to be a master Occlumens or had taken a potion or two to keep her emotions in better control than your average Jedi Master.

"Most interesting." She eventually allowed. "This if verified could make certain people's lives most troubling. Why give this to me?"

"Gorski irritated an acquaintance of my Master. Now that he is no longer keeping to the shadows, he believes that he has to make a point. Merely disposing of Gorski isn't enough. He wants to bring down the Minister he elected too and replace him with someone more reasonable and open for new business opportunities."

"You want to play Kingmaker. Why here instead of England? Dumbledore?"

"Dealing with the old man might be bothersome." I admitted. "Besides, neither my master nor I have any design besides profitable business for my homeland. In fact, that's true for Bulgaria too. Unfortunately, certain parties might decide that they want an unreasonable large piece of the pie and we believe that it is for the best to pre-emptively prove how bad an idea meddling with our affairs could be."

"What do you want then? Truly?"

"Become filthy rich and enjoy my retirement." I told her the truth though I doubted she would believe me. It was a most modest goal for a Dark Lord. Perhaps it was an alien thought for her; Varshenska was born to old money and I doubted that lacking enough of them had ever been a problem she faced.

"Hypothetically speaking, what are you ready to offer in exchange?"

"For the future business ventures? When the time comes I believe we'll be able to reach mutually beneficial accommodation. As far as Gorski is concerned? Do you believe that this," I nodded at the documents, "is going to be enough to persuade him to seek satisfaction if it is used in the right way?"

For the first time since the meeting began, Varshenska showed a hint of emotion. "You want to duel him?"

"I want to make a point."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

 **Varshenski manor**

 **Location Unplottable**

Sylvia watched the suspected Dark Lord finish his coffee, bow as it was proper and take his leave. This first meeting, it was both enlightening, yet not. What she knew for sure was that he didn't act as she expected a Dark Lord to, which was probably why he did so. She monitored him through the manor's defences and was relieved when he left the protected area and apparated away. Only then she relaxed and summoned her closest family members – her cousins Yavor and Kalina. They were among those who monitored the meeting and were ready to intervene if Veil was up to no good.

The two of them waked together. Kalina was a bit taller, with waist long black hair and kind brown eyes. She looked like a bit younger version of Sylvia herself thanks to the same Veela blood that ran in their veins. Yavor on the other hand had the appearance of a short brute of a man and many underestimated him because of that. Instead of Veela, he had a bit of goblin and perhaps even dwarf in his ancestry. No one was really sure what was in uncle Kaloyan's family line and honestly, Sylvia wasn't too eager to dig into it.

"What are your thoughts?" She asked her friends once they sat down.

"This is an opportunity." Yavor spoke fist. His deep voice carried clearly and only the charms keeping the glade private kept his words from reaching the retainers waiting outside. "If he's genuine." He shrugged.

"I concur." Kalina nodded making her uncharacteristically dark hair shake as if alive. Her voice couldn't be more different from their cousin's if she tried. Where his resembled a broken gravel, her own was sweet, enticing honey. "House Gorski has been a thorn in out side for longer than any of us has been alive. He has too much influence in the Ministry as it is and he practically bought Kniajev's election. He needs to go and we need to see for ourselves what this Dark Lord is capable of."

"Do you propose we align with him?" Silvia inquired.

"Not at all. Perhaps in the fullness of time." Kalina obviously didn't like the idea much. "However, we might not have a choice. Either the Ministry or the Dark Lord might pick up a side for us."

"At least he didn't demand our allegiance. So far anyway." Yavor chuckled mirthlessly. "That puts him in a better light than either of his predecessors. Anyway, if he wants to duel Gorski, who are we to stand in the way of such an entertainment. Sylvia, we all know that you'll use what's in those documents no matter if its real or not. At worst, it would serve as a nice food for some nasty rumours. At best, well..." He grinned, displaying a set of perfect teeth that looked strong enough to chew through granite. They actually might be up to the task at that.

"He doesn't seem to want much." Kalina cautioned. "It might be just that he intends to operate closer to home but we can't count on such an eventuality."

"Ever before I agreed to meet him, I was aware that there would be strings attached no matter what happened today." Sylvia admitted. "What we couldn't really do was to ignore him.

"He did practically offer you the Ministry." Yavor smirked. "Of course there will be a lot of strings attached."

"Yet, you might not have much of a choice but to accept. If he is determined to go after Gorski and succeeds, Kniajev's days will be numbered without his most powerful backer. Then no matter what we want we'll have to ensure that a more friendly Minister replaces him and there aren't many we can count on to protect our interests that we can put in that position."

"I can think of one, perhaps two names that has a chance of replacing Kniajev and remain thankful for our support no matter what someone else would offer." Yavor hummed. "One of them is a long shot anyway."

"We're assuming that Veil will succeed."

"You're assuming that we just met the Dark Lord instead one of his agents. While that might very well be the case, let's not go overboard with assumptions." Kalina warned.

"Let's see how this plays out. We will move against Gorski, won't we? Anything else, is for the future. How we'll deal with the Dark Lord will depend in no small part of what he wants of us and if it will benefit us to follow through with any future deals he might offer." Yavor suggested. He raised a hand in a placating gesture. "I know its dangerous game we'll be playing. Opposing one of his kind is perilous, though that might just be the best alternative we have. Or we might end supporting him gleefully. Time will tell. However, we'll need to hedge our bets and ensure the House survives no matter what."

They continued to plot late into the night.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Wizarding Quarter**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

They apparated near the marketplace, which was quite busy at that time of the day.

"What now, boss?" Ignatius asked once they were sure no one paid them any attention – as far as anyone was concerned, they were just two more wizards out shopping.

"We dispose of some assets and deposit the money with the goblins. Should I presume you have contacts who can help with that?"

"Certainly. At least a few of them are open at all times." Ignatius dutifully answered. "After that?"

"We have some contingency planning to do. What do you think of our new friends?" His Lord asked.

"I'm sure that they trust us as much as we mistrust them." Vance snorted. "Did they agree?"

"They'll think about it and get back to us through our featherly acquaintances."

Vance's eyes lit up at that. He was looking up to visiting the sanctuary again. That woman... he sighed.

"You're almost drooling so I don't need to ask who you're thinking about." His Lord snorted.

"Can you blame me? The things she could do with her tongue..."

"Yeah, it was a very nice night." Veil nodded. "Now focus. We have stuff to sell, people to see and a rumour or two to pick up. Then we're probably off to Romania to fix their little vampire infestation."

"It's Romania – its a rule, they always have a vampire infestations. I blame popular culture on it. They didn't have such problems a few hundred years ago or so the self respecting vampires tell me."

"We do have a cure for that."

"I do love the smell of napalm in the morning..." Ignatius began humming one of his favourite melodies – it was from a war movie about Vietnam and it featured a lot of napalm.


	13. Chapter 5 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Political entanglements**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Transylvania**

 **Romania**

Dark forests made of crooked trees that had their branches poke through the snow like greedy clawed fingers. Steel grey overcast sky complete with low hanging clouds that looked ready to dump a few metric tons of snow right on top of us. Howling wind that if not for warming charms had been piercingly cold.

"This is so stereotypical it isn't even funny! This is the fourth time I'm in the area for work in the winter and its always this way!" Vance bitched.

It's been a very long time since I've partaken in Earth's, any version of it really, culture, especially movie. Still, Dimitri hadn't been totally divorced from the Muggle world and from what little movies he had seen – a few versions of Dracula being among them, my minion had it right.

"Is the place enchanted to appear that way?" I asked.

Ignatius paused for a moment and gave the surrounding area a closer look. "More like cursed if I had my history and what I've heard right. Vlad the Impaler dabbled in some pretty dark stuff in order to stop the Ottomans, both magical and muggle alike. He did succeed in the end, however whatever he did still impacts the land. Or that might just be a old wives tale and the place might be naturally like this." He waved at the forests surrounding us and shrugged.

"We've been travelling on the road that has people regularly disappear from about two hours now and besides the area trying to be creepy, that's it." Whoever through this place was scary, didn't have to travel a well maintained and secured road through the jungles of Dromund Kaas or a hundred other death-worlds, much less those that weren't so protected.

"I can't detect a shit." My minion said, confirming that I could sense both through the Force and a passive detection charm I cast on myself before we began hiking. At the face of it, we didn't look like a pair of wizards out to find trouble but instead as two backpackers out to travel through the wrong part of the woods. Foreign too, just like a few of the missing people. A nifty piece of transfiguration Vance knew solved the appearance issue without us having to use glamours, which could be much more easily detected.

"A waste of time, do you think?" I agreed. "There's that village at the end of the road – at least half the people were reportedly last seen stopping there. Check it up, what do you think?"

"It might be a convenient place to mark targets and for all we know, everyone missing actually got there in the first place and the locals are keeping it to themselves." Vance added.

"Hike or apparate?"

"Well, we can continue playing our little charade or go in and kick in the front door."

"It's not that far away and I still have a lot of things to pick you brain for." I chuckled.

"I was afraid you would say that. What kind of Dark Lord are you sire, anyway? Most already know the stuff you ask for."

It was a testament to how reasonable I was in some ways compared to his worst fears that my minion was becoming somewhat more open and relaxed around me. He was much more useful that way.

"There's a rule how Dark Lords around here should act?" I jested.

"Well, not really. Voldemort and Grindelwald couldn't be more different in the way they acted, nor about their agenda, especially if some later rumours about the former are correct. At the end of the war, people began whispering he had become more and more Crucio happy towards his Death Eaters for the slightest of offences."

"By that point he had the campaign in the UK mostly wrapped up? The Ministry was close to collapse and the only real obstacle he had was Dumbledore, right? Perhaps he believed he had already won and decided to show his true face?" I wondered. I've seen Sith slid down such a road before, though Dark Lords here were different. Or perhaps not – there were kinds of magic and rituals that could affect your mind as a part of the price for more power.

"Your guess is as good as mine, or better. You're the Dark Lord. Just don't go around Crucioing me and we'll be golden."

"If you bollocks things up bad enough for it, I might just not bother with it." I half-joked. Torturing your minions, especially if you had any further use of them was patently idiotic.

"Now, let's run again over how the various Ministries detect magic. That's one part that can bite us in the ass for sure if we aren't careful."

"Well, you do have the basics right – there are detection networks all over the major cities that will ping on magic use outside the various enclaves and known residence. Older, well protected places that has slipped the records or are charmed unplottable by their owners complete with a lot of decent defences make the best safe houses. Either that or simply hiding in the muggle world and not using any magic besides potions. Speaking about them – you can brew without worrying anyone detecting it magically."

"That's about cities. In the countryside, the situation is quite different I take it?"

"Well, first, there is much less chance to blow open the Statutes if you cast in the middle of nowhere, away from any muggles to see. What someone does in a random mountain or forest for example, well the Aurors don't really care unless they're on the look for something specific. That said, a lot depends on the size of the country and the state of old magics tied to the land. Take the Americas for example. The local practitioners, populations and thus magics got by and large gutted during the last thousand years. That makes monitoring anything but populated areas by and large impossible. On the other hand, if someone has the people, money and drive, raising the spells needed to monitor say, the British Island or Bulgaria's actual territory for example, while extremely hard, its technically doable."

That filled up some holes in my understanding and I would be plying Vance's mind for everything it was worth on the topic, again and again, until I was damn sure I got my facts straight. When circumstances permit, I should double-check by finding myself either a Ministry informers, victims to browse through their minds or both.

We continued to hike, talking about magic in general and useful spells Vance had picked up during his illustrious career in particular. He continued to labour under the misconception that I had sacrificed a tremendous amount of not only my wanded power but knowledge as well in order to gain my incredible wandless abilities; a potentially worthy sacrifice – most of what he perceived that I lost, I could re-learn. Gaining the power I displayed earlier, during our raid, that couldn't be taught and this way I couldn't be rendered all but helpless by simply taking out my wand.

Soon enough, we got to the village of Krechin, a name that didn't sound particularly Romanian to me but whatever. The place looked well kept – the buildings appeared to have received a fresh coat of paint sometime during the summer, everything was in good repair and looked quite bright in contrast with practically monochrome surroundings on the way there. It took me a few moments to connect the dots – this was probably the local communist take on a tourist trap.

The people on the other hand, what few we could see on the street, huddled in their clothes and shied away from us when they saw us. Something was wrong all right.

"I think we got the right place, sire."

"Me too. Let's find a place to stay and ask a question or two."

There was a hostel at one corner of the village square, which had a large statue in the centre depicting a bunch of scruffy people carrying vintage WWII weapons. Half forgotten memories from another life pricked in the back of my head – those were supposedly communist partisans that the new regimes glorified after the Soviets took over Easter Europe. I've seen the same back home so long ago that it was more like a half-forgotten dream by now rather than real memories.

We got into the hostel, which had a few older people drinking tea or eating some hot broth. A small TV was up in one corner, showing a chess game and a tired woman sat behind the bar. She gave us an equal measure evaluating and pitying look, a further confirmation we were in the right place.

"Good evening, comrades. How can I help you?" She asked in Russian – a language we both spoke. In my case, it was because of Dimitri's late mother, who accounted for both of us now having that first name too and Vance had picked more than enough of it during his travels.

"A room, something hot to eat and drink won't go amiss." I smiled at the woman. "How are things around here? The place looks down of sorts?"

She looked shifty at my question. "There's nothing to worry about, its all fine, comrades!" It was obvious she didn't believe it herself. "There's beef stew and hot tea!" Speaking about the menu seemed to calm her down a bit. "We've got rooms to spare right now." She gave us the price in local currency and I honestly didn't have any bloody idea if it was outrageous or not for a place like this. I didn't really bother to check the exchange rate when we were preparing for this job and let Vance handle the money while having a chat with my goblin buddy after we disposed with as much of our loot as practical. Besides, in the great scheme of things, it didn't really matter if this place was going to rip us off or not.

"I've got it, comrade." Vance pulled out a walled and paid with a handful of bills.

"The room is on the second floor, in the end of the corridor. Please chose a table, I'll serve you in a moment!"

We got a place near an old timer with a scarred face – shrapnel, my experience told me. He was old enough to have fought in WWII, for whom was anyone's guess.

"I hear you have issues with unwelcome visitors." I addressed the veteran, who was quietly eating his stew and paying no attention to the world.

He finished his spoon, chewed contently and only then looked up at us.

"Yes." He muttered dully and returned to his meal.

"If the comrade bartender's nervousness is anything to go by, they will be paying us a visit tonight, perhaps tomorrow on the road, yes?" Vance asked.

Another affirmative mono-syllable answer came after he chewed through another spoonful and a bite of bread.

"Excellent." I nodded just in time for the bartender to come with two large plates full with steaming broth. At least smell wise, it appeared delicious and it was decent in the looks' department.

"I'll be back with the tea in a moment, comrades. Please enjoy your meal." She hurried away.

"Our last meal she forgot to add." Ignatius jested and sampled the food, after swiping his hand over it. He had a ring enchanted to detect poisons. "It's decent." He nodded, then dug in.

I followed his example, trusting the Force to not only warn me but to keep me safe.

It was tasty all right.

By the time we were done, it was dark outside and all but the bartender and the old veteran were gone. We didn't miss that they slipped out, presumably to lock themselves home, just before sunset.

"Tonight you think?" I asked quietly.

My minion glanced at our hostess. "Soon."

Even without my emphatic senses, it would have been impossible to miss how nervous the woman was and it got worse as the hour grew late. Examining her through it, she was already a nervous wreck and getting downhill from there. It was enough for the Dark Side to feast on her emotions. Thinking about it in that light and considering some of my abilities, I wasn't that different from a vampire really, I just didn't need to feed on people to survive but to enhance my power. There was a time that such shite was necessary for survival, then there was a long period when I had more power than my body could handle making such things unnecessary, simply enjoyable and short-sighed. Nowadays? I wasn't really sure. This wasn't my body and that meant at best I was far from the peak of my power. As far as my limits went, truly finding them would require either someone to push me up to and perhaps beyond them or really letting lose with all that entailed as a test – something wasteful that might let me vulnerable and thus not to do.

The simple truth was, that even for someone as experienced as I was, figuring out exactly how much power my body could handle was not exactly trivial exercise. While there was a safe way, I lacked the necessary artefacts to pull it off nor did I have the knowledge to re-create them. They were back on Korriban, a galaxy or dimension or two away, not to mention possibly temporarily displaced, perhaps all the above.

My train of thought got brought back in the present when the door opened and a trio of subjects walked in as if they owned the place. The old-timer stiffened and our hostess gasped in fear.

Looking at them, the newcomers didn't appear as anything special. Two of them were short – couldn't' be more that one sixty, perhaps one seventy. Their obvious leader was much taller and broad-shouldered enough to weight more than his two friends combined. They all had pale, almost chalky complexion that contrasted with their old-fashioned black clothes. Thinking about it, they would have fit in almost without a notice within some magical enclaves.

The leader said something in Romanian that had the bartender took a few steps back until she hit the wall. She began babbling and waving her hands, making some kind of excuse.

"They're ignoring us." I chuckled.

"We're just food – nothing of consequences until it's time to eat." Vance explained.

I haven't really thought about a vampire's mind-process, especially how they saw people. Was it just as food from the beginning, did that happen gradually or perhaps it depended of the kind of person who got turned? It was another curiosity about their kind, along with the possibility to replicate their physical abilities in people, thus enhancing them and making a killing from the technology, not to mention getting access to better soldiers that way.

I shook my head at the thought. I was in for the money and to have fun. Taking over the world would be a tremendous amount of work, not to mention it would be even worse once that was actually done and I had to run it. I should know, I had to run whole planets and in a few, thankfully brief instances, whole star systems. Any benefits from the position didn't come close to the work that you had to put in to make up for it.

"The food talks." One of the short vampires looked surprised.

"It knows what we are, yet I don't smell their fear." The other looked surprised at that.

"Well, we can't have that." Their leader turned his gaze our way and a pair of empty soulless eyes looked at us.

I stared right back, letting him see what he thought about eating.

"I want to try something a friend of me at school showed me." I said lightly. The Force sang through my veins and I guided it to enhance my reaction times and speed. The world around me slowed down as I whipped out my wand and channelled as much magic as I could. I spoke the short incantation aloud and clearly, adding "Maxima" at the end, a world, that was a general trigger that helped overpower a lot of spells when used right. I draw the right figure with my wand and bright, blinding light shone into the room. Warmth, as if from the sun touched my face and the vampires, who were already moving our way, screamed.

"The hell was that?" Vance's voice came slow and distorted. He was already getting on his feet, with wand in one hand and a home-made napalm bomb in the other.

I kept the spell going until the undead were writhing on the ground and smoking before I lifted it and the conjured sunlight vanished.

"There was that girl I knew at school, she loved her tan and wanted a way to keep it up during the long winter months. She gathered her friends, hit the library, our Charms and Arithmancy Masters and a few months later, this little charm was the result."

"A cosmetic spell?!" Vance exclaimed. "Then why all that preparation if you had something like that up your sleeve?!"

I gave him a pointed look. "First, I didn't know if it will work and I remembered it after we were out of convenient test subjects. Second, it's napalm. You never know when you'll need an additional way to burn something or more explosives." I said reasonably.

The vampires painted whimpers, the hostess crying and the old soldier's pleased cackle, put an end of our argument.

"Someone is going to explain to us what exactly is happening here, won't you, folks?" I smiled pleasantly at our little audience. "You can test the napalm on one of these if they aren't cooperative." I nodded at the well done vampires.

"That's nice. Please, boys, don't cooperate. I haven't used napalm in what feels like ages!"

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 **Krechin**

 **Transylvania**

 **Romania**

"Details, people, give me some details. Something strong to drink too, the good stuff. Not some swill that will make me blind."

Ignatius was beginning to think that ending up a Dark Lord minion because he didn't think things through might actually be a bad idea, if for no other reason, then because his Lord had the damned of lucks.

"Get a cup for my friend here too." Said Dark Lord at least took care of his people, that much Vance had to admit. He needed the drink too, after the hasty explanation delivered by the locals and the scorched leeches.

The bartender pulled out a bottle of vodka from under the bar, fished out a pair of clean cups from the same place too and began pouring.

"It's like this…" She continued her explanation. "We've been working raising and gathering rare potion ingredients ever since Grindelwald got killed. For decades it paid rather well, which in practice meant we could either pay off any troublemakers or hire people to make the problem disappear."

If it was that simple, Vance wouldn't be in a desperate need of a drink, or two, preferably the whole bottle.

"However, a couple of years ago, when we began hearing rumours that we might get our own Ministry of Magic back and that various departments were being re-built by the Bulgarians. People wearing Auror uniforms began coming, demanding 'taxes' so they could keep the order and us safe. We obviously refused to be subjected to that racket. Ever since then we've had problems with bloodsuckers, weres or all kinds of troublemakers. They didn't accept to be paid or if they took our money they just kept on causing problems, harassing people, you get me?" The bartender fished our a third glass and poured herself a hefty dose of vodka too.

"What we have here is a textbook case of a government backed protection racket." The Dark Lord nodded sagely.

That obviously complicated things, because they didn't know which faction in the Bulgarian Ministry those leeches worked for. It wouldn't do to trod upon the feet of their new allies. Political entanglements were always complicated, not to mention, dangerous.

"You know, the smart thing to do would be to make the leeches vanish, sling a few memory charms and pretend we were never here." The Dark Lord mussed. He nursed his drink and gave Vance an exasperated look as if asked how did they find themselves in such a predicament.

The bartender stiffened at that and glanced warily at them. She grimaced and downed her drink in one swing.

"For some reason I find myself not caring about that." The Dark Lord shrugged. "Pray tell, how do you feel about gaining a new partner in your venture? What kind of potion ingredients are you working with?"

Huh, that was a factor Ignatius hadn't considered. Taking over under disguise of becoming the locals new best friends and after that, depending on who else had an interest in this operation, either cut a deal or deal with them if they were from the wrong faction.

"You need to speak with Tubor then." The barmaid said. "He's overseeing the fields and caves."

"We will, after we dispose of the trash." The Dark Lord nodded at the bloodsuckers. "Vance, you do the honours."

Ignatius grinned, brandished his wand and readied a napalm bomb. He levitated the securely bound leeches outside, shoved them together and moments later he had a nice cracking bonfire going on. He was considerate too – a silencing charm served to keep the vamps quiet so they wouldn't disturb the locals any more than they already did.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

While Vance has been around a lot, he was by no means an expert on Herbology, especially the quite rare and illegal kind, even if he could recognize the most useful healing and poisonous plants. What the Romanians had was a small jungle covered under ancient wards, further kept secure and warm under rolls of glasshouses that were charmed to be larger on the inside than they should have been. It was clear that at least some of the profit had come back in to make the operation run better.

"Just watch those grabbing lianas." The bartender told them and led the way in the glasshouse. There was just enough space for them to move in a single file unless they wanted to stray too close to a bunch of glowing, moving and hissing plants that turned their way the moment the door opened.

"I haven't seen something like this in years." The Dark Lord muttered examining a tall collection of lianas covered with blue glowing orbs. The plant preened under the attention and stood straighter and taller. A sweet scent washed over them and Vance relaxed for a moment before his paranoia kicked in and he began casting defensive charms.

The Dark Lord on the other hand merely breathed in deeply and a thoughtful expression appeared on his face. "I can see how some of this could be useful especially if refined. Then there are potions..." He nodded to himself.

They found Tubor at the far end of the glasshouse tending a row of what at first glance appeared to be rose bushes. The man wore multiple layers of heavy clothes that protected every square centimetre of his skin, had an old fashioned gas mask on his head and it was all topped by a pair of protective amulets that had protective runes carved in them.

Tobur's most notable feature, besides his clothes, was his height – he was short, not quite like a dwarf, but he barely got up to Vance's shoulders. As if to compensate, he was a small hill of muscle, so more alike dwarfs from myth and muggle fantasy than the real thing.

"We have guests?" The protective layers weren't enough to keep down Tobur's deep voice.

"I can solve your leech problem and do something about your political complications. In exchange I want in." The Dark Lord didn't beat around the bush.

"Do you, now?" Tubor rumbled. "How am I to know you aren't yet another one of those troublemakers?"

"I'm not torching your glasshouse with you bound inside." The Dark Lord said in a most reasonable tone.

Vance wanted to know who taught him to be diplomatic so he could either strangle the bastards or buy them a drink.

"Am I to understand that you will bind us and burn us alive in our own glasshouse if we don't work for you?" Tubor proved that he wasn't an idiot.

"Of course not!" The Dark Lord sounded offended and made a great show of showing how shocked he was by the very suggestion. "Why would I do something like that to my new honest business partners? I'm here to make troublemakers think long and hard about causing us issues."

That wasn't a no and Tubor noticed it too. The Dark Lord chose that moment to give everyone a taste of his aura and what little light was there in the glasshouse got swallowed by the darkness surrounding him. Tubor took a step back, the bartender, whose name they hadn't bothered to ask, fell to her knees and began uttering powers and the flora… Some of the plants recoiled from the cold taste of the Dark Lord's power, others twitched excitedly and leaned as close as they could to bathe in the dark magic, including the supposed rose bushes that were anything but! Roses didn't have mouths complete with razor-sharp teeth.

"I knew something like this would happen eventually." Tubor sighed. "What do you want, my Lord?" He fell to one knee.

"Oh, cut the bowing and scrapping, it's embarrassing!" The Dark Lord grumbled and his aura was gone as dispelled by a powerful spell. "Up and do tell what exactly you've been up to, my friend! I'm seeing all kinds of possibilities around us!" The Dark Lord waved grandly at the multitude of undoubtedly dangerous plants and Vance was suddenly very glad that he was loaded with napalm.


	14. Chapter 5 Parts 5&6

****AN: I've have a lot of fun writing about Veil's adventures in the 1980's, however this puts me in a bind - the way things are going, we won't get to Harry and company any time soon. So what I've decided to do is alternate chapters from the time when Veil meets Harry for the fist time and he becomes his apprentice and the past showing Veil's various shenanigans and how they affect practically everything on a global scale. I hope you'll like what I have in mind. The next few updates would focus on the events until Harry goes to Hogwarts and I'll use them to iron out a rough plan for Veil's antics until 1991.  
****

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Political entanglements**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 _New high-tech corporation, Mandal Technologies unveils first room temperature super-conductor!_

 _Mandal Technologies signs government contracts with France, UK and the US!_

 _New battery design patented by Mandal Technologies!_

 _A new Subsidiary of Mandal Technologies, Mandal Motors unveils prototype electric car based on their new power cell design!_

 _In unprecedented move, Mandal Technologies patents declared vital for National Security!_

 _Rumours of promising Fusion research leak from Mandal Technologies weeks before the corporation is set to go public on the Stock Exchange!_

 _Mandal Technologies signs contracts with all major NATO governments!_

 _An unnamed source leaks pictures and documents confirming Mandal Motors is testing practical direct energy weapons for the Pentagon!_

 _Yesterday, TASS confirmed that Russian presidential candidate, Boris Yeltsin was found dead from cardiac arrest…_

 _Warsaw Pack signs a new charter! Is détente still possible?_

 _Breaking News! The spy scandal of the century! Anonymous government officials confirmed that restricted Mandal Motors designs and patents vital for national security have been leaked to the Soviets by moles in the NATO Oversight Committee working closely with the rising tech giant..._

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **21 May 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

Jolly old England. It was late May, yet the sky did its best impression of a nice day on Dromund Kaas as lighting and thunder rend it asunder and torrential sheets of rain tried to drown everything and everyone unlucky enough to be stuck on the island. Thick drops of water rapped over the roof of the car, a brand new Jaguar complete with one of my people as a driver, as he drove us towards our destination – what I hoped to be Harry Potter's muggle home, hopefully my future Apprentice.

It took me years to reach the point where I just might get away with my vague plans for the boy, not to mention being left with no much fucks to give about the potential consequences. Besides, on the bright side, the older the lad was, the less of a burden he would be, I hoped. He was just at the age he might be able to make somewhat informed decision about the offer I would offer him… if I could locate him in the first place. Having vague memories of this world from so long ago had been a good starting point, however despite that it took a lot of digging around to discover Lilly Evans' family and track them down to this part of the country – it took a lot of time, money and effort from hired help to do it. Whatever spells Dumbledore had cast ensured that locating them magically was hard, especially for someone like me who despite years of effort was simply far removed from the likes of him or most self-respecting Dark Lords in magical power and ability. All things considered, it was a good thing that I had the Force to rely on.

The Jaguar drove slowly through the downpour and my most trusted agent turned his face away from the window to look at me. Ignatius hasn't changed much since he swore himself to my service by the old ways in an impulsive gesture to figure out if the newest Dark Lord on the block – a.k.a. me, was any different from Voldie. Happily for him, I was much saner and didn't torture my minions for the hell of it or just fun. He had a few more lines in his face and a handful of silver hairs in his hair, just enough to give him a distinguished look.

"Are you sure about this, boss? When it comes out that we found and met the lad, it will bring a lot of heat upon us. Do you really think its worth it? We do have other concerns as well, especially now."

He was right of course. Once I finally stopped being drunk on my newfound freedom and lack of responsibilities in order to begin in earnest my plans to bring Earth to a proper technological level worthy of a respectable retirement location, I soon began running in unexpected snags. The damnest thing was that said issues were entirely predictable. Just the building blocks for bringing forth some proper technology and accidentally becoming legally filthy rich with all that entailed were inevitably going to cause waves and bring a lot of scrutiny upon me, both from the magical and muggle governments. That was precisely why I needed an ironclad legal source for my starting capital.

What I failed to consider was how various corporations, their lobbyists, money and muggle governments would react once they understood the implications of my technology. Merlin's beard, just a basic room temperature super-conductor, some power cells and batteries based on those and generally the other building blocks for practical fusion were good enough to put me under microscope. By late '88 I as under pressure to restrict my tech, sell it exclusively to the US and NATO governments or certain corporations they were in the bed with for what was a chump change compared to what I would be making on the open market. I naturally refused and everyone began to play the natural security card because of course the Red Menace TM behind the Iron Curtain couldn't be allowed to get their hands on the goods. It of course had nothing to do with upsetting various cosy arrangements between the corporations and people running the oil and coal and said governments by threatening to generally put the former out of business in the not so distant future.

I have to admit I didn't really account for the amount of backslash I would face, including kidnapping and assassination attempts, not to mention, unprecedented government strong-arming.

Needless to say, for years I was fit to be tied; only the mixed bag that were my contingency plans kept me from going full Sith Lord on this world, though at times I came very close to it. Before answering Ignatius I gave one last look at my paper – there, the front page proclaimed Zhirinovsky's successful efforts to keep the Warsaw Pack and the Soviet Union from a complete collapse thus granting a decisive victory to the West and proclaiming what people would have called the end of history. All it took was a year long campaign of subversion and targeted assassinations among other things. Yeltsin was dead, followed by a long list of government, intelligence and military officials who were in position to become the Oligarchs who would control Russia in the years followed the USSR's collapse if history broadly followed what happened in my original world.

New technologies, magic and investing most of my money, both legal and otherwise in Eastern Europe were barely enough to stave off collapse and that was with full support from my allies there. Despite the danger that put me in, the long term rewards were going to be tremendous – after all, now I was a close ally to the people who ran one of the two super-powers on the planet and with my technology, well the Cold War had the potential to go on for years if no decades and with it, it provided me with tremendous opportunities on the muggle side. I smiled at the second largest tittle on the front page – the scandal with leaked secrets from my corporation… traced to Soviet spies among the government oversight that got forced upon me for 'national security' reasons. I didn't even need to fake my outrage in front of the media who lapped it all up. Many a NATO government was in for interesting times, the Senate across the pond was busy holding hearings and racking people over the coals, especially now that it seemed that thanks to said leaks, the dastardly Commies snatched victory in the Cold War from the West and might just continue to be the enemy.

To think that on Friday I would be meeting NATO officials to discuss new contracts and what my people could do to tilt back the balance of power to the right side, when not so long ago those same powers that be made me merely a very wealthy figure-head in my own corporation… or so they thought.

I put the paper down and looked at Ignatius.

"This is precisely why were doing it now, my friend. I need Harry as my sworn Apprentice by the old ways in case our double games is exposed and my public persona in the muggle world has to flee to the east."

"The investigations will uncover we've channelled a tremendous number of assets to Eastern Europe in order to by everything of value we can." Ignatius nodded. "Granted, there is the cover story with us taking advantage of what was until recently was seen as inevitable collapse of the Soviet Union..." Vance trailed off.

"It's going to be simply tragic if said injection of liquid capital is just enough to prevent the Soviets from an utter collapse." I drawled. "Especially when our friends in the government convinced us that it was inevitable that the whole rotten structure was going to collapse any day now, in no small part due to our technology giving us an incredible advantage..." My smile was anything but pleasant.

"You know, you're supposed to speak in front of Congress next week, perhaps the Senate too."

"Closing the barn door after the horses have escaped and the place has burned down in a time honoured tradition." I mussed. "If the worst happens, my public persona will have to retire. Anyway, this isn't the time nor the place for such a conversation. We have a potential apprentice to meet."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

 _Is the end of Oil and fossil fuels night? Oil prices fall as the industry struggles with the implications of new Mandal Technologies patents and Mandal Motors electric car prototype set for public demonstration in June…_

 _Government sources claim that there is no reason to panic. Oil, Natural Gas and Coil would continue to be needed for years if not decades to come as the military is set to consume the bulk of super-conductor production leaving little for commercially available power cells… In response, OPEC has limited world wide Oil production even as price begins to stabilize… Is this the start of a new recession?_

 _A week after Mandal Motors became public with the release of a limited number of stocks, the corporation is already among Fortunes top 500. Would the new government contracts see its rise to the top 100 and beyond?_

 _Exclusive! Soviet Russia and Communist China in talks over new trade deals even as outrage and condemnation over Tiananmen Square massacre still echoes throughout the civilized world._

 _Exclusive! Dictator Saddam Hussein masses more troops on the Kuwait border! In response, the US Navy has dispatched the Carrier John F. Kennedy along with its battle group, and elements from First Armoured Division… Sources in the State Department claim that this is merely meant as deterrence and a show of solitary with our allies in the Middle East while more cynic voices claim that this is an attempt to prevent a crisis that would lead to disruption in world wide Oil supply. Our economic advisers believe that such a disruption combined with OPEC's clamp on production might lead to unprecedented spike in Oil prices and world wide economic crisis, something that might just push for crash development of alternative energy sources like the Fusion reactor Mandal Technologies are working on..._

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **21 May 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

For Harry Potter, the last couple of years were more unpleasant than ever and that was saying something. It was all because those new developments that his Uncle raged about that led to his company downsize their business and while Vernon was still gainfully employed, the salary and benefits were not what they used to be. That in turn led to Harry being in more and more trouble even when he did everything right, which never really happened according to his relatives.

"Boy! Get right here right now!" Vernon roared from the living room.

Harry carefully removed the lunch he has been diligently working on for hours now from the stove and swiftly mad his way to his Uncle. Vernon was on the sofa leafing through the paper and watching the news.

"Uncle?" Harry asked timidly.

"Let me make this absolutely clear, boy!" Uncle Vernon glowered. "Today we're hosting some very important people! Once you're done with the lunch, you will go to your cupboard and won't move nor will you make any sound!"

The glowered went up a notch and Harry had to conclude that he better listen or else… He nodded frantically. "No one will see or hear me!"

"Make sure they don't or it would be your hide this time! Now go get the lunch done. Your Aunt will make sure its all set up properly when she's ready. Go!"

Harry went back to the kitchen as fast as his feet could carry him. Fifteen minutes later, the roast was done and cooling and he had the sause off the fire for good. Now he needed permission to get the good silverware and dished to set up the table unless his Aunt was willing to do it herself so he wouldn't mess it up, though he personally doubted it. Aunt Petunia was currently upstairs making sure that Dudders would be presentable and behave himself… something Harry wasn't going to hold his breath about. The boy only hoped that he wouldn't be held responsible for what his cousin did… again. He shook his head – such thoughts weren't encouraged. Besides, it wasn't like he could do anything about it. All he could look up to was growing up and hopefully one day leaving this house and his so called family behind for good. Until then, he was stuck working as a servant with rotten luck from something like Dickens or worse… At least those occasionally got paid for their work or so the books he had to read for English class or when he could make himself scarce in the library claimed. Harry shook his head again and went on to set up the table – very carefully and deliberately. Thankfully, he was done half an hour before noon and scampered to his cupboard, which Uncle Vernon wasted no time in locking up. Harry laid up on his ragged mattress to rest and prayed that there would be no accidents today.

He even managed to doze off – no surprise as he had been awake and cleaning up the house long before sunrise today, at least until the front bell rang and awoke him. The sound was enough to jolt Harry and he nearly jumped, before remembering that he had to not be heard today and clamped his teeth on his lower lip when he figured out how close he came up to making a ruckus.

"Mrs Dursley I presume?" A jolly unfamiliar voice came from the front door. Whoever it was, they sounded rather happy. Harry hoped that they would remain so once they tried his lunch.

"I'm Petunia Dursley, Mr Veil. Its an honour to have you! Please come inside! I'm sorry that you had to come in such a terrible weather!"

Harry was stumped – he had never heard his Aunt fall over herself and speak to anyone in such a deferential and sweet tone before. Who were they hosting today?!

"Mr Veil! Vernon Dursley!" His Uncle thundered into the corridor. He sounded very pleased at himself too.

"Mr Dursley, the pleasure is mine."

They exchanged some more pleasantries and another guest introduced himself – an Ignatius Vance, Mr Veil's personal assistant, whatever that was. The surprises didn't let up either – Harry heard Dudders introduce himself and he was quiet and polite too. He really wanted to know how his Aunt managed to persuade or bribe his cousin in behaving… and wondered if he would ever has the chance to put said knowledge to good use in the future.

"I'm not seeing your nephew, Mr Dursley, won't he be joining us?" Mr Veil asked and Harry froze. Deafening silence came from the living room as his relatives apparently shared the condition.

"My nephew?" Uncle Vernon asked in a small, sick voice.

"Your nephew, one Harry Potter, son of James and Lilly Potter." The stranger continued to speak in that same jolly tone and Harry was sure he was enjoying every moment of this disaster, because there was no way he was sure his relatives would blame him for this, whatever this was.

Harry's mind froze. James? His father's name was James? He couldn't help it and grinned at this small piece of news about his father. All he knew about them came from his Aunt and Uncle – that they were both good for nothing drunks… something that Harry had never wanted to believe but with no proof to the contrary, not even a hint… Did this man, Mr Veil know his parents?

"Your nephew, who is the primary reason for this visit. Did you really think I came all the way out here to meet you just about drills? I have whole departments full of people who deal with such small issues." All the joy drained right out of the stranger's voice and suddenly Harry felt very cold. "Your nephew, the wizard Harry James Potter, who is currently locked up in the cupboard under the stairs. I have a proposition for him."

"You're one of them!" Uncle Vernon found his voice and hissed in disbelief.

"A wizard? Why, yes we both are."

"I won't..." Uncle Vernon began to bluster – something Harry was very much familiar with before chocking and suddenly everything was quiet.

Only the cold persisted and all Harry could do was stare at the crack of light under his cupboard's locked door and feel fear. What did that man mean by calling him a wizard?! There were no such things! And how did he knew about him in the first place?!

A shadow appeared and covered the thin strip of light. All Harry could feel was all consuming fear. Then the lock clicked and the door swung open revealing a young man standing in the opening on one knee and smiling at him.

"Hi there, Harry. We need to talk."

The stranger offered a hand and suddenly the fear abated even if Harry felt colder than ever. He took the hand and in a daze found himself sitting on the table, with Mr Veil and Mr Vance, while his relatives stood frozen to the side, which was impossible, surely. Yet there they were.

Harry blinked in confusion and looked at the stranger. All he could think at that moment was 'why me!?'".


	15. Chapter 5 Parts 7&8

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Political entanglements**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **21 May 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

Harry slowly chewed on the roast he painstakingly prepared but didn't expect to even taste and tried his best to comprehend what was happening. It was cold too, colder than the weather outside suggested, despite the continuing downpour. He felt as if a cold wind constantly flew through him chilling his very bones.

"By your expression I take it you don't know what I'm talking about, do you, Harry?" Mr Veil gave his relatives a disappointed look.

Harry shook his head in denial. He was just Harry, he couldn't be a wizard! Besides magic didn't exist!

"Are you all right if I make another demonstration?" Mr Veil glanced pointedly at Harry's relatives.

He mutely nodded and stared at the stranger sitting across the table. Mr Veil looked him in the eyes, smirked and suddenly everything on the table except Harry's dish floated until it was at his eye-level before gently landing.

"That was magic?!" Harry found his voice had turned into an excited croak.

"A very special kind of magic. You're a wizard, Harry a person who can wield magic, just like your parents before you."

"My parents?" Harry asked in wonder. They weren't drunk good for nothing then?! He felt vindicated! He knew it! Well, he hoped his relatives lied but…

"They're rather famous in the magical world and so are you. In fact, this..." Mr Veil waved an arm around and Harry wasn't sure if he meant the house, the Dursleys or the whole neighbourhood, "this isn't how the great majority of wizards and witches believe you are being raised. There are books about you and your adventures, books that obviously aren't true."

"About me? Books?!" What?! Harry stared at Mr Veil in incomprehension.

"Aren't we going a bit too fast, boss?" Mr Vance asked.

"Perhaps we are, Ignatius." Mr Veil nodded. "Yet our time here today is limited. I hoped you would know about magic and being a wizard, Harry, about what to expect once your birthday comes and you receive a very special letter." Mr Veil raised his arms in 'what can you do' gesture.

"Letter? Who would write to me?" Harry asked in confusion while trying to get to grips with the thoughts that someone would write books about him and his adventures. He felt he got the short end of that stick.

"Well, as I said this is a strange situation. I know for a fact that you are very famous in magical Britain and I would have expected that you would be receiving tons of fan-mail and thank you letters, however as you don't know the first thing about who you are and being a wizard..." Mr Veil grimaced. "This is not good, Harry."

The cold wind chilling Harry grew in intensity and made him shudder despite the warmth in the room.

"I'll have to give you the abbreviated version today, Harry. On October 31st 1981, an evil wizard attacked the place where you parents hit. He was a terrorist rampaging throughout magical Britain for years in a quest for power. Everyone who defied him usually died. He and his terrorists were coming closer and closer to overthrowing the government and taking control, when one night he went after your parents. The story goes that he murdered them but when he went to the second floor of the house, pointed his wand at your forehead and cast one of the darker curses around, his magic broke. The top of the house blew up, all that remained of him were his robes." Mr Veil clapped his arms making Harry jump. "And just like that one of the most fared wizards in the British history was gone. For some unknown reasons, instead of people making the logical conclusion – that your parents created some kind of protection around you in case the worst happened, you are the one who got all the fame about defeating 'Lord Voldemort' or as people around here call him - 'You-Know-Who', which is frankly ridiculous."

While Harry was trying to process what he was just told, Mr Veil looked back at his relatives as if daring them to do or say something. Somehow, Harry wasn't surprised that they remained silent and frozen in place, which was awesome! He wondered if Mr Veil could teach him to do the same, it would save him so much grief it wasn't even funny.

"So my parents weren't good for nothing drunks?" Harry eventually asked in a hopeful tone.

"As far as I know neither of them liked to drink anything but the occasional cup of wine, though I'm not an authority on them. We attended different schools and they were older than me to booth. For what's worth, we met just once on a social occasion before they went into hiding and neither of them struck me as a drunk."

"Good. I'm glad." Harry smiled in relief.

"Harry, I won't lie to you. When I came here, this wasn't what I expected to find, which makes this harder. You know nothing about the magical world, which means you lack context about what I intended to suggest. On the other hand," this time Mr Veil sent a chilling glare at his relatives, "I feel compelled to explain and make my offer anyway."

"What is it, Mr Veil?" Harry looked at his Aunt and Uncle and only now it dawned at him how much trouble he was going to be in once Mr Veil left. He gulped at the though. "Can you get me away from here?"

"This is going to be complicated."

"More that we thought possible." Mr Vance agreed.

"Harry, I'll tell you what I know about your situation and what I suspect. My best guess is that you were put here for your protection. There are some very powerful magics cast on this house that affect the whole area. If we had any intention of harming you, neither of us could have come anywhere near this place, perhaps we would have been unable to find it. However, I suspect that whoever placed you here and put those protections failed to account how your relatives," Mr Veil sneered at the Dursleys at that, "would care or as the case may be not care about you. Further, while I don't know why said person or persons did it, I find it most concerning that they didn't check up on you and ensured that you have a proper childhood instead of being stuck in a cupboard under the stairs."

The chill jumped in intensity and Harry was surprised that his breath didn't come out as mist. He was sure that there must be frost creeping all around the room, it was that cold!

"Nor do I know why said people failed to make sure you know you were a wizard and as importantly the incredible expectations that would be placed upon you when you return to the magical world. Personally, I can't help it but be very concerned by this whole situation." Mr Veil paused for a moment, and somehow Harry knew it was done so he could process his statements. "That's what I know for sure."

"What we suspect however, well that makes the situation very complicated." Mr Vance admitted. That simple statement didn't fill Harry with confidence.

"There is a certain person who has claimed that you are well taken care of and protected, that you would be more than all right when you return to the magical world in a few short months. Why he left you here, if he was the one to do it, why he didn't check up on you to make sure you had a normal childhood and what he might plan for you – I can only speculate. Perhaps I'm paranoid but the way you have been raised, it rings alarm bells in my head. Harry, legally I can't remove you from this house or your relatives. Doing so would be kidnapping in both the magical and mundane world."

Harry's hopes died a sudden and if he had to admit it to himself, expected death. Of course no one would come to really help him! Anger flared somewhere deep within his chest and he felt the chill saturating the air respond to his wild emotions. It felt welcoming, eager even.

"That said, I might be able to help you improve your situation. For starters, as of yesterday, I own the firm your uncle works at. Having one of my directors mistreat his nephew, forcing him live in a cupboard for example and work like a slave – those are big no-nos." Another glare was sent at Uncle Vernon. "If you accept the proposal I'm about to make, I might be able to help you in the magical world as well."

"You just said you can't take me away!" Harry snapped still under the sway of his anger.

"They haven't been able to beat out the spirit out of you, good." Mr Veil nodded in approval and it sent a wave of warmth through Harry. "You're right. At this point, as far as the law is concerned, mundane and magical alike, we have no connection whatsoever. That means I have no say at all in how you are treated nor about your future. However, there is a way to change that." Mr Veil leaned forward and gave Harry a disarming smile. "There is an old law still in power across the magical world pertaining the bond between a master and apprentice. If we enter such a compact, it would bind both of us through magic. As far as you are concerned, it would mean that I would have to teach you about magic, our world and I would have some amount of responsibility towards your well being."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 8**

 **=TSA=**

 **21 May 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

Harry thought about what Mr Veil told him. Though very hard indeed and his simmering anger didn't help matters. "How does that help me if you can't get me away from here?" He asked aloud.

"Well, first, I'll be making sure that when you return to our world, you won't be ignorant of your position with all that entails. Small things like how you greet someone for the first time can have severe repercussions among certain circles. People will expect you to know all about being a wizard and who you are, who your family used to be. Without help, which I dearly hope you would have received in time without my intervention, you are all but guaranteed to needlessly make enemies. That's not a good thing for you if my fears are realized. Second, magic. I can offer training, some of which you won't have access to until you're adult if ever." Mr Veil's smile became dangerous. "For example," he gave yet another nod towards the Dursleys. "Do I need to spell it to you? Magic is might, Harry and from what little I've seen you'll need all the power you can get in order to be safe in here much less out there." He jabbed a finger towards the frond door.

That suggestion by itself dearly tempted Harry to accept on the spot and damn the consequences. His anger agreed too. He could almost imagine having the Dursleys fear him at least as much as he feared their wrath. To have the ability to be safe and not be afraid, that was something he hadn't dared dream in a long time. This whole thing, it was like a dream. Was he in his cupboard sleeping?

"Third," Mr Veil continued, "with you as my apprentice, I would be bound to ensure that you are safe and sound. While that by itself won't be enough to remove you from this house, especially given the rather good protections against outside interference that means you harm, I should be able to ensure that your relatives remain civil and at worst merely ignore you. After all, it wouldn't do for someone working for me to abuse their nephew. The PR disaster that it would be, makes me shudder, see?" Mr Veil theatrically shook his shoulders in a mock fear. "Besides, what do you think, Mr Dursley, would happen once Harry Potter is back in our world and even a hint of how you treated him leaks? You three would likely be done for, however that does have some drawbacks as far as Harry goes. There is no guarantee that the magical family that can get custody of you would have your best intentions in mind, Harry. Here in magical Britain many of the oldest and most powerful families are rather interconnected. It could turn out that you end up with someone who had sympathetic if not covertly supported the terrorist who murdered your parents and attempted to do you in."

What took Harry aback was how matter of fact Mr Veil was when explaining such world-shattering possibilities. Harry certainly didn't want to end up anywhere near people who had anything to do with whoever murdered his parents and was responsible for him ending up with the Dursleys.

"Perhaps as bad, the other alternative is that you end up with allies of the person who I believe ensured you were placed here, one Albus Dumbledore. That man is a complicated topic at the best of times." Mr Veil sighed.

Beside him, Mr Vance snorted. "That's a charming understatement, boss."

Frankly, Harry didn't know what to make up out of this whole situation. "Why are you here, Mr Veil? What do you want with me?" In hindsight, he should have asked this question much earlier.

"I'll freely admit that I'm not here just of the goodness of my heart. I won't lie to you, Harry. When I came to meet you, I was hoping to see how much potential you have. Oh, your position in our world would mean that there will be many people who would want to come close to you either to use you, hope that by mere proximity you will help them rise in our world or bring you down as a potential enemy."

"Those who would support the terrorist? Volde-something?"

"The Volde-thing? I like that." Mr Vance chuckled.

"Or those who already believe that you are Dumbledore's man through and through. The political situation here in Britain is complicated and when all is said and done, you don't have magical family left to back you up, explain things to you and teach you what you need to know to be anything but a pawn. Dumbledore I fear should have been meeting with you and teaching you what is expected so you won't be led blindly into what might very well be a slaughter, Harry. I said it before and I'll say it again, that man and anything surrounding him is complicated. Some see him as an icon, as a leader and someone who stand up for all that is best in the world. To others, he is someone who would gleefully destroy centuries of traditions and not just some onerous ones that really should have been done for a long time ago but almost everything that makes up the British magical culture. The truth? That depends on where you stand."

"Where do you stand?" Harry asked after thinking a bit.

"Some times he is an adversary, others an ally, though he seldom sees it that way. My personal opinion? Albus Dumbledore is one of the most powerful wizards in the world a man who wields tremendous political power, especially in the magical Britain… However… Harry, have you seen the saying that the road to hell is covered with good intentions? For me, Dumbledore embodies that saying. What he believes best for magical Britain, the magical world as a whole and what I believe for the best are much different things. As far as you are concerned, I fear that he might have decided that it would be for the best of our world that you play a certain role and didn't even bother to think if you would want to play it or how you might have to suffer for it."

"What the boss isn't saying is that we both do have our concerns about dear old Albus. What he said is the best case scenario – an old man with tremendous amount of power who does what he thinks best and damn the consequences for everyone else. We do have some reason to believe that he might not be what he present himself as but, well if you accept my boss' offer, we'll have the time to give you all the facts so you can make up your own conclusions." Mr Vance said.

Harry certainly had a lot of things to think about now and he had the nagging feeling that he didn't have much time to make up his mind.

"And do you have my best interests in mind, Mr Veil?"

"Not necessary." Now, that took Harry aback. Why was Mr Veil admitting it if that was the case?! "I can offer you a lot, Harry and as you can guess, my offer does come with a price. As my apprentice you'll be expected to keep my secrets and until you have learned everything I have to teach you, you will be my ally. It's not all bad. The final exam so to speak, once you believe yourself ready and I've taught you everything, is a personal combat between the two of us - a Master facing off against their Apprentice. If the Master has abused their charge's thrust, then the Master isn't expect to survive such an encounter."

"Then why would you teach someone what they need to take you down?!" Harry blurred out even before it fully registered what really Mr Veil meant.

"The greatest achievement of a Master is to have their apprentice surpass them. At worst, they should be evenly matched in the end as peers. What I can promise you is that I would do everything in my power to give you the strength to be your man, so you would never again be a servant, never be stuck into a cupboard below the stairs. You won't have to hide your emotions and act as an obedient, quiet slave." Mr Veil patiently explained.

For a moment, Harry felt a shimmering wave of fiery anger pulse around Mr Veil and he would have been terrified if it was aimed at him. Instead, he felt glee at so much fury being aimed at his relatives. The chill in his bones pulsed in response and he felt cold, sweet joy at the very thought of the Dursleys getting what was coming to them.

Perhaps it was a mistake, Harry was afraid of it. Yet, there was something so alluring in what Mr Veil proposed. There was some small part within him, on that had been buried deep a long time ago that craved recognition. It sang in joy that someone came seeking him and recognized that he mattered! More importantly, the suggestion that he could be powerful enough not to be afraid of the Dursleys any longer… perhaps powerful enough that he could get back at them for everything… Harry glared darkly at his relatives, with anger and that pulsating chill singing through his whole body.

"I accept. What do I need to do?" Harry asked before he could think better of it and his courage could break.

Mr Veil gave him an encouraging smile and stood up. "Come stand before me, Harry." He said gently.

Even such a small amount of kindness was more than enough to sent Harry's spirits soaring and he couldn't shoot up from his chair fast enough. In moments he found himself in front of Mr Veil looking up eagerly at the older man.

"Do you, Harry James Potter, consent to becoming my Apprentice?" Mr Veil began to speak and with every world an invisible force fell upon the whole room, filling up every possible space and pressing upon Harry. It was familiar yet different and the boy instinctively knew that was power, magic and something more.

"I do, Mr Veil." As Harry uttered these words, something settled over his whole being. It felt like a jacket was put upon his shoulders but so much more, it was somehow deeper and the boy simply lacked the words and experience to express it better.

"Do you swear to keep my secrets and serve my purpose, Apprentice?" Something shifted in Mr Veil's tone and whole bearing. He was like a deep, bottomless well of so much dark power that being in its mere presence felt suffocating. Yet, the chill within Harry reacted in joy and recognition, the boy knew instinctively that this was the might he was agreeing to learn about and how to harness. He was both terrified by the prospect and elated in equal measure.

The thought not to agree never even crossed Harry's mind at that point. The emotions he had to suppress for years or suffer accordingly bubbled to the surface and he shook with them.

"I so swear!" Harry was surprised of how strong and eager his own voice sounded.

"I, Dimitri Veil, accept thy pledge, Apprentice. I will educate you in the ways of magic, the magical world and most importantly in the mysteries of the Force. So I say, so I pledge, so mote it be!" Mr Veil declared and Harry was suddenly drowning. It felt like an ocean of ice water poured straight into his chest and he couldn't move nor breath. Magic and something else crackled around him and Mr Veil, a golden mesh manifested all over him just above the skin and it tried to stem the tide before it turned smoky black and dark red as if corrupted by the waves upon waves of powers clashing into him. Then as suddenly as it began it was over. The golden mesh was ink black as it settled back upon him skin like a warm blanket before sinking within it without a trace. As fast as it began it was all over and Harry could once again breath, something he did with relish taking large gulps of air.

" _Well, that was certainly unexpected, Apprentice. Aren't you full of surprises?" Mr V_ eil's voice sounded in his head. It was quite amused too.

"What was that?" Harry managed to rasp.

"That was the Force, Apprentice. It formed a bond between us just like magic did. The effect was more… energetic than I expected. It is a good thing, Apprentice. It means I can indeed teach you everything I know as I hoped. Raise Apprentice and finish your lunch. We have a lot of things to discuss and time is a precious commodity these days."


	16. Chapter 6 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: The House of Potter**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **22 May 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

Harry awoke suddenly and for the first few moments he was confused. The laid on something much softer and more comfortable than his mattress. Much larger too, not to mention that even before he cracked his eyes open, there was light, something that never happened in his cupboard. His confusion gave way to fear, he needed to get up and prepare breakfast!

The boy went up somehow avoiding entangling himself in the sheets only to stumble when he rolled out of the bed. His blurry eyes tried to take in where he was as he stared in confusion. This most certainly wasn't his cupboard!

" _Rise and shine, Apprentice!"_ An all too cheerful and chipper voice sounded in Harry's head making him jump where he stood confused. Only then the events of the previous day did come back and he remembered, everything. Veil, his new master, that he was a wizard, all the lies his so called relatives told him his whole life… the fact that he still had to live in this house despite everything, something that kindled an ever increasing anger in his heart…

" _Did you make up your mind, Apprentice?"_ His Master's voice echoed in his head again.

Harry mutely nodded.

" _Then get yourself ready. I'll be picking you up within the hour."_ With those parting words, the presence within Harry's head retreated and he was again alone in his head. He sat back on the bed, relieved that it all hasn't been a cruel dream.

Eventually, Harry got himself into gear, found his glasses on a cupboard besides the bed – one magicked up by his master and his friend once they had a word with his relatives and then they decided that it would be for the best if he received Dudley's second bedroom and busied themselves with removing all the toys and other stuff discarded in there.

The surprised didn't end up there. When Harry went to the bathroom he could hear his Aunt moving downstairs and judging by the smell and noise, she was busy cooking – something that she seldom did once he learned how to do it himself. Once he was done, he went back to his new room and took a few more moments to marvel at it before dressing in some of his old clothes, which were again magicked up to not only fit but appear brand new.

Magic was awesome!

Eventually, Harry made his way downstairs and warily looked in the kitchen where his Aunt was still busy. She noticed him almost immediately and gave him a look of disdain that was quite familiar, yet somehow he could feel that there was something different today, well besides the obvious. She was afraid of him and he could almost taste her fear. Was this more magic? Harry blinked in confusion. It felt nice that his Aunt was afraid of him, he felt it was just and vindicated.

Wordlessly, Aunt Petunia pointed at the table where there was a dish with eggs, bacon and toast. Harry simply nodded and went to take a seat and warily began eating. This was actually nice and he wondered if other children began their day this way… possibly without the mute treatment and the glares.

Anyway, it was very much better than his usual mornings and he wasn't going to complain. He ate quietly and once he was over he went to clean the dishes, with his Aunt pointedly ignoring him. At that moment, Harry decided to thank his Master when he arrived to pick him up.

When he was done, Harry found himself back in his room left to the novel experience of having nothing to do early in the morning and for the first time in a long while he allowed his imagination to run wild wondering what would be like to learn magic and be just like his Master. He couldn't imagine Mr Veil ever being scared of Uncle Vernon for example and he wanted to be like that!

Soon enough, he felt his Master approach – it was an awareness in the back of his mind. Harry ran down and waited near the door, earning himself a disapproving glare from his Aunt, yet for the first time he wasn't afraid of it and what it might signify. Just a few minutes later he heard a car coming to a stop in front of the house, doors opening and closing and most importantly, his Master's reassuring presence. Harry wasted no time in opening the door and he couldn't help it but grin when he saw his master at the doorway.

"Ready, Apprentice?"

Harry nodded frantically.

Mr Veil looked him up and down, nodded in approval and turned around. "Come Apprentice, its time for your lessons to begin."

Within moments, Harry was in the back of the car, strapped securely with a seat belt and sitting besides his master while Mr Ignatius gave them a short greeting before driving away.

"First we'll be dealing with some of the possible consequences of our compact, Apprentice. We're on our way to Gringotts, the Wizarding bank in the UK. There we'll request a meeting with your family's Account Manager. Through him, we'll find out what is your exact legal status in the Magical world and if at all possible at this time, hire a lawyer to handle your legal issues, like filling the proper paperwork pertaining our bond. While this could be done by one of my own lawyers, it would constitute a conflict of interests." Mr Veil explained.

Harry simply nodded. He had the feeling that this was something important, however he simply didn't know enough to know how much and why.

"Harry," Mr Veil looked at him, "this will be your first appearance in the magical world and given your fame, it would be for the best that we are all under glamours." His Master shook his right arm and a not particularly large piece of polished wood appeared into it. He muttered something in an unfamiliar language and his features subtly shifted. His short black hair lengthened, curled and turned dirty blond. Mr Veil repeated the same words and sharp motions with the stick over Harry, who didn't feel any different.

"What do you think, Ignatius?"

Mr Vance glanced at them in the rear mirror and simply nodded. "Good enough for Diagon."

"Now, Harry I'm sure we'll see some rather strange and exciting things, however try not to gawk too much. We'll have time to explore both Diagon Alley and the other more famous and infamous Wizarding locations in the UK, eventually. That said, some of the first impressions of the British Wizarding world won't be particularly good. For example, one of the main entrances to Diagon Alley is next to a put where most right thinking people won't be caught dead." Mr Veil paused in thought. "On the other hand, I think it best to let you see and make up your own mind. Just stay close to me and we'll be all right. Now, more importantly, let's speak about the bank."

"The bank, Master?" Harry finally found his voice.

"The Bank. It is run by Goblins, they're bloodthirsty little blighters." Mr Veil said and Harry could clearly feel a sense of approval radiating through their bond. "Be respectful, look them in the eyes and when greeting them, make a mention about gold flowing into their vaults, their enemies finding a sticky end and preferably loosing their gold to the goblins. That would make your interactions with the Goblins a tiny bit easier. For best results, you'll have to really impress them but we'll leave that for when you both know enough and have some training and experience under your belt."

"Scary people, be respectful, wish that they beat their enemies and rob them blind?" Harry asked.

"That's the gist of it." His Master snorted in amusement.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

 **22 May 1991**

 **Gringotts London**

 **UK**

It didn't take long for Harry to conclude that his Master was right – his first taste of the magical world was a mixed bag. What little Mr Veil showed him from the Wizarding pub, well it looked like something ancient the likes of which he had seen on TV on the rare occasions he could watch something while trying to remain unnoticed. Not that it made him any great authority about pubs, but well the place was dark, dinky and it smelled strange, certainly not something to his liking. On the other hand, the entrance to the alley, which was hidden in a brick wall next to the pub was cool – his Master produced his wooden stick, his wand as he explained on the way here, and tapped a bunch of bricks with it. Then to Harry's awe, the bricks moved under their own volition until whole wall shifted and opened the way to their destination.

Diagon Alley was a mixed bag as well. There were all kinds of people wearing really weird clothes – both men and women looked like they preferred dresses, which was damn odd. Many of them wore pointed hats, some smoked pipes and there were a lot of owls flying above. What struck Harry first was how small and cramped with people the whole place was. If it wasn't the sheer presence of Mr Veil and Vance, he was sure that the people milling around paying him no attention would have easily squashed him without even noticing!

On their way to the bank, Harry was barely able to see what was sold around the place – he managed to glimpse a pet shop, with a lot of owls, wizard apparently loved the birds, which was kinda nice, he was also pretty sure he glimpsed a bat hanging upside down from a perch above the shop before a large group of people moved past and obscured his view. On the other side of the street he saw a group of kids pressing their faces to the front of a broom shop of all things and wondered if they were as unfortunate as him to have to do all the cleaning back home.

When Mr Veil finally managed to push them through the crowds and they reached a small, very small plaza. There the alley separated in two going along a tall white and most fascinating, twisted building that looked like something Aunt Petunia just got out of the washing machine. The place looked like one hard push would make it fall and that had to be the Bank. It said so in large words above the entrance - 'Gringotts Bank'!

Mr Veil led them inside and Harry had to pause as he saw the Goblins for the first time. Many were no taller than him, had long hooked noses, large bat-like ears and crooked fingers. They looked scary even if their out fashioned suits that appeared to be out of place on their bodies. The main body of the Bank Harry could see was flanked by two rolls of wooden stands where at least twenty Goblins worked. They were all covered with scales, parchment, large leather-bound books, sharp spikes that might have been gold that had a lot of paper sheets pierced on them and were apparently used to keep said paper in place, other Goblins raced this way and that pulling small carts full with more paper…

A reassuring hand fell upon Harry's shoulder and squeezed it followed by a pulse of amusement and strength pulsing through the bond. Harry looked up at his Master and smiled nervously. _"It will be all right, Apprentice."_ Echoed in his head.

"This way." Mr Veil nodded down towards the far end of the bank where a large desk stood upon a raised platform. There a single old Goblin with receding white hair worked.

"Master Goblin, may your enemies choke dead to any profit they make and their gold flow freely into your vaults. I'll require the services of my Account Manager." Mr Veil raised his right hand and Harry thought he saw a ring flicker into existence on his ring finger before vanishing without a trace.

The old Goblin grinned displaying two rows of shark-like teeth. Harry simply stared. Those were a lot of very sharp teeth.

"Oh, its you. Killed many new enemies lately?" The Goblin's grin somehow became even wider.

"That would be telling. Perhaps over a pint when we're both free."

"Rockslicer will guide you, my Lord. May your enemies die screaming as you take everything they hold dear."

A barrel-chested Goblin appeared besides Harry as if by magic, which he probably did and growled: "This way, humans." He silently led them to a richly decorated wooden door at the left side of the large room, which in turn led down a long corridor, one that had its end obscured in shadows what looked very far away. Harry was sure that the building they entered wasn't large enough to hold such a long corridor. Now way! Was this more magic he was seeing?

Rockslicer led them past eight doors until they reached their destination. "Bloodaxe is inside." The Goblin growled, turned around and marched up the corridor.

Mr Veil knocked thrice and without waiting, opened the door. He entered first and a mental nudge had Harry following with Mr Vance coming in last and closing the door behind him.

"Bloodaxe, you old scoundrel, I have more work for you." Mr Veil cheerfully greeted.

"Sneaking around nowadays, are we? What are you up to this time? More chaos and mayhem?" An amused growl answered.

When Mr Veil moved aside, Harry could see a large room that had shelves, desks and cupboards all covered with heaps of parchment, leather books, scales and various other odds and ends he didn't know what to make of. The only free space were the three chairs in front of the desk.

"Take a seat, Apprentice." Mr Veil turned to look at Harry and pointed to the chair in the middle. To his surprise, there was no trace of the illusion that changed his Master's appearance – he looked just like he did when Harry opened the door back home. The boy wasted no time and did as instructed.

"Apprentice, eh? There is story here, me thinks. Whose day we'll be ruining today?" The Goblin, Bloodaxe, asked.

Once he sat, Harry looked up at the short creature who gave him a toothy, vicious smile. The primary difference between this one and the other Goblins Harry saw in the bank were two scars that split Bloodaxe's face vertically. One looked like it should have removed his right eye, however the only trace that it had been ever injured was the fact that it was quite bloodshot, especially compared to the clear blue one to the left.

"This is my oath-bound Apprentice, Bloodaxe. One Harry James Potter."

The Goblin stared for a long moment before he pulled his head back and roared in laugher. "Oh, you did it this time, my friend. This plot will be something I'll be telling my grandchildren about, I just know it! Harry Potter, eh?" The Goblin asked and looked at him.

Harry felt like fidgeting under the scrutiny. In his experience, being put in the spotlight was never a good thing. Yet, his anger that has been simmering quietly below the surface since yesterday suddenly surged to the surface and before he could catch himself, he glowered straight back at the Goblin.

Bloodaxe smirked at him and looked back at his Master.

"How can Gringotts help you today, my Lord?"

"First, you can fetch House Potter's Account Manager. Harry will need to figure out the state of his house and arrange to put a lawyer on retainer. He'll need it when we go to iron out the documentation about our new bond among other things."

"The last Potter Manager deceased back in eighty five. As far as I know, the accounts and assets have been frozen since then and would remain that way until the Potter Heir becomes eleven so he can request a new Account Manager and reactivate the accounts." Bloodaxe explained.

"Can he do it now?" Mr Veil asked.

The Goblin rubbed his chin with long fingers revealing small but sharp claws. "It should be possible, however what can be done at this juncture will be very limited. At eleven, you'll have some access and say about your assets, if you so desire, however they won't be fully active nor released until you reach your majority."

"Will my apprentice be able to retain the services of a lawyer recommended by his new Account Manager?" Mr Veil asked.

"That much should be possible, I believe. To know for certain, Mr Potter would need to request a new Account Manager and said Manager should check the directives governing the Potter Estate."

"Apprentice?" His Master looked expectantly at him.

"What must I do?" Harry asked and he was proud that his voice didn't break nor did he squeak.

Bloodaxe leaned down to the right and opened a compartment in his desk. He rummaged within and retrieved an ornate silver bowl and a wicked looking dagger. "You need to bleed in this to be recognized as the Potter Heir."

"The blade is enchanted to heal the cut." Mr Veil said. _"It would be for the best if you do it yourself. It would earn you a small portion of respect with Bloodaxe and your own Account Manager once he learn of it."_ A wave of reassurance and strength came through the bond making his spine straighten up.

Harry nodded and carefully took the offered tools. His Master stood up and took the bowl then looked at his left hand. Harry took a deep breath, grit his teeth and without giving himself any time to reconsider, drew the blade over his palm before offering the cut to the bowl. To his surprise, there was just a sharp sting and that was it. A splash of red liquid went into the bowl where it began to bubble and smoke before being absorbed into the silver metal. Within moments both the bowl and the knife were spotlessly clean. Harry looked at them then at his palm which had no trace of blood nor the slice on it ether.

Mr Veil gave him an approving smile before handing back the tools to the Goblin who looked at them for long moments before giving a single sharp nod. "Its good to make you an acquaintance, Heir Potter. May your enemies fall before you and their treasures enrich your life."

Harry smiled warily at the Goblin. "May you smash your enemies and take their riches for your own." He muttered.

"The new Potter Account Manager will be here within half an hour. What can I do for you and your Apprentice while we're waiting, my Lord?" Bloodaxe asked.

"Draw the paperwork covering a Master-Apprentice contract done by the old ways and pending a review by the Potter Account Manager and my Apprentice's lawyer, we'll be signing them. I'll want them quietly filled and accepted by the Ministry ASAP, gold is not an issue."

"I'll do so momentarily, my Lord. Anything else?"

"Create a standard Apprenticeship thrust vault for Mr Potter and put a thousand galleons in there, to be refilled annually on his birthday as long as he is my Apprentice."

Harry's head snapped up to look at his Master in astonishment. He had no idea how much a thousand galleons were, nor what a galleon was but it sounded like a lot. Anyway, he was sure it was much more than the Dursleys had spent on him his whole life, surely.

"Unless you have some news for me, then we'll wait for the Potter Account Manager to arrive before continuing with our business."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, my Lord. You know I'll contact you if there are any developments that need your attention and can't wait until the end of the month report."

"Good. How's the brood nowadays, Bloodaxe?"

"My grandson is showing affinity for axes, not like his father and his foolish swords." The Goblin proclaimed proudly.


	17. Chapter 6 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 6: The House of Potter**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **22 May 1991**

 **Gringotts London**

 **UK**

For about twenty minutes Harry listened to the banter between his Master and Bloodaxe. What he learned in that time was that he wasn't sure if he should find Goblins awesome or appalling. Probably both, he decided. They were all certainly bloodthirsty creatures and the fact that they saw his Master as a bird of a feather was both reassuring and frightening.

The arrival of a new Goblin, this one much younger than those he saw so far, interrupted Harry's musings. This one was a bit taller than him, lean and muscled. He looked like a coiled spring ready to snap. In comparison to the older Goblins he had seen, the newcomer had a short spiky black hair and a pair of green eyes that darted every which way as if looking for threats – which reminded him of himself when Dudley and his gang decided it was time for Harry Hunting.

"Account Manager Bloodaxe, you screamed." The young Goblin declared once he was sure there were no hidden threats.

"Ah, Spikedriver, good you're early." Mr Veil's Account Manager smiled approvingly, which was nevertheless one scary shark-like smile, Harry decided. "This here is the young Potter Heir. He is requesting an early appointment of an Account Manager as well as their services."

"Well, its about time!" The now named Spikedriver, declared with a relish. He stared at Harry and grinned. "Who are we going to be sending into ruin and robbing blind today, young wizard?"

"Um, hi?" Harry tried. "May your enemies flee in front of you and you hear the lamentation of their women?" He added. He had heard something like that on the telly and it seemed appropriate.

"Not quite how the quote goes but good enough. I'm Spikedriver and I'm honoured to be your Account Manager. So tell me, youngster what mayhem we'll be getting into?" The Goblin asked eagerly.

"Umm… documents? About being Mr Veil's Apprentice? A solicitor and… status of my assets?" Harry did his best to sound composed. "I think?" He added.

"Eh. We'll make a proper Potter out of you yet. We got you young." Spikedriver muttered after studying Harry for what felt like eternity. Then he looked at Mr Veil and snorted. "He's your Apprentice? Oath and magic bound as per the Old Ways?"

"Yep." Mr Veil said with an amused smile plastered on his face. "We need all the proper paperwork signed and filled up with the Ministry once you and appropriate lawyer goes over them. Harry will need a lawyer on retainer anyway, one who would have his interests in mind with all that entails."

Spikedriver stared at Mr Veil for some time and absent mindedly tapped a gash on his right cheek with long slender fingers. "They'll need to be oath bound and paid for from the Potter Estate too." He nodded to himself. "Let me think… Mr Potter, how much do you know about your family?"

"Umm… Yesterday I found that everything I knew were lies. My Master decided that it would be for the best that my Account Manager here should be the one to fill me up and then he would tell me what he knows."

Spikedriver looked back at Mr Veil speculatively and raised both eyebrows at that.

"A most cunning decision. Now, a short history lesson relevant to this discussion. Your grandparents were Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. Your grandfather had a brother, your great-uncle Charlus Potter who married Dorea Black. Charlus was the head of the House as well. As far as we know, he and his wife opposed that imbecile Voldemort and were murdered at the start of the so called Blood War. This is relevant because while House Black is considered one of the darkest there is and many of its members supported said imbecile, Lady Dorea's favourite niece, Andromeda Black married a muggleborn and got herself banished from the family for her trouble. Said muggleborn is one Theodore Tonks and he is a very competent solicitor, one who given his status as a muggleborn has no connections with Houses that should mean you harm."

"Do I have a family who Voldemort didn't murder?" Harry's anger spiked at the very idea and he was unable to keep his mouth closed.

"Well, his people tortured your godmother and her husband – Alice and Frank Longbottom to insanity and they're currently in Saint Mungo as good as dead." Bloodaxe helpfully added.

Anger like nothing Harry had ever felt before took a grip of him. What he now knew was magic and something else, something darker cracked around him and the temperature in the office fell like a rock. The light from the gas lamps and glowing crystals subdued as all the shadows around rose and somehow became tangible.

"While this is an impressive display, Apprentice, anger is a tool to be used, not something you should let rule you. While our passions give us strength, they don't rule us!" His Master declared. "Focus Apprentice, keep your anger in check. It should be a cold and controlled blade to use against your enemies not a liability that takes your ability to reason!"

Harry bristled at that! How could his Master dare tell him that? Didn't he hear what had been done to his family by that Volde-thing?! It was his fault he ended up at the Dursleys! He had all the right in the world to be furious!

When Harry turned his blazing eyes to his Master, all he received in response was a deadpan look. Then whatever control his Master had upon his own power he loosened and for the second time in two days Harry found himself choking on so much power it was hard to comprehend its scope. This time the shadows really came alive and surged around in joy around his Master. Harry felt his blood freeze in his veins and his heart beat so fast he was sure it would jump straight out of his chest!

As fast as it happened it was over and Harry found himself collapsed in his chair panting for breath. His anger had broken replaced by fear. Then and there, he vowed to himself to never ever piss off his Master again for he knew that this display, which was more than enough to crush him like a bug, was merely a fraction of his Master's power. Yet at the same time, there was a small part of him that couldn't help it but offer hungry anticipation at what that man could teach him. With such a power at his fingertips he was sure he would never again be a victim!

"Impressive as ever, My Lord." Bloodaxe had the gall to chuckle in amusement.

"I apologise for my Apprentice. He needs to learn to control his temper, something that Occlumency should help with once we start him on it."

"Heir Potter, do you consent to contacting solicitor Theodore Tonks and putting him on retainer?" Spikedriver asked.

Harry mutely nodded. He most certainly didn't trust his voice right now.

"Splendid. I'll do so immediately. Bloodaxe, I trust you're already preparing the relevant documents so Tonks and I can go through them when he arrives?" Spikedriver asked.

All the answer the younger Goblin got was a pointed look.

"Good. Now, Heir Potter, once I've contacted your new solicitor I'll go over with you about what I can tell you about your assets and I'll begin filling you up on your family. Do you want witnesses about said discussions?"

Harry looked around and nodded at his Master. With their connection he suspected that Mr Veil would learn it anyway.

"In that case..." Spikedriver turned around, "follow me, Heir Potter, we'll continue this in my new office."

"I'll be seeing you, Bloodaxe. May your blade be forever sharp and deadly and your enemies rue the day they gained your ire."

"May your profits multiply forever and your enemies die screaming, my Lord."

Spikedriver silently led them ten doors down until he opened the door of an office identical to Bloodaxe's though there was no trace of paper and books in it outside pristinely clean shelves. Harry barely noticed that Mr Vance remained outside this time.

"Heir Potter, first I must warn you that the assets of your family and their alliances nowadays are at best a shadow of their former glory. At the turn of the century," Spikedriver began speaking the moment the door closed behind them and he headed for the desk, "House Potter was one of the most powerful and respected in Britain. Then the Grindelwald and the Blood War happened in a close succession. While the Islands were never properly invaded we did have kill teams from that prick's Knights running around and they hit the three families leading the domestic opposition to his agenda hard. Those were the Potters, Blacks and Malfoys. You could say that their fall began with his war. By the time Dumbledore finally deigned to face and defeat them, only the Blacks had more than a handful of members left and they lost the best they had. By the time your father went to Hogwarts," Spikedriver sat and waved them to the leather seats in front of the desk, "House Potter had only four members – your grandparents as well as your grand uncle and aunt. The Malfoys were in even sorrier state – only Abraxas was still alive along with his son and the blacks… With the exception of Orion those who were left were in love with the Blood Purist agenda."

Harry simply looked and listened enthralled. This was more than he had ever hoped learn of his family, even if he now knew it to be a tragic tale.

"When Charlus and Dorea were murdered, for a short time it looked like that Abraxas and Orion would manage to rally the Wizarding world against Voldemort – those three were both friends and veterans from the Grindelwald's war you see. However, within days both suffered the same fate. While we can't prove it to our satisfaction, we suspect that Lucius Malfoy has been seduced by Voldemort and his cause, the same was true for the rest of the Blacks and they betrayed Abraxas and Orion to the Dark Lord who personally led the attacks that saw them destroyed. With their deaths, both the Malfoy and Black fortunes backed the Blood Supremacist faction and the Potters remained one of the few openly defying them. In fact, your grandparents and after their passing, your parents, were among the primary financiers of the war for the so called Light side. This in fact is the reason why while not a pauper, your available assets are very limited, Mr Potter. Worse, many of them we won't be able to unlock and make working until you're at least fourteen. On the bright side, you do have enough in your thrust vault to hire a solicitor, keep him on retainer and if you're careful, live comfortably until you finish school at the very least. By the time that happens, we should have your remaining assets spinning and making a tidy profit – conservatively speaking…"

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 **22 May 1991**

 **Gringotts London**

 **UK**

The feeling of Portkey travel was something that Ted Tonks never got accustomed to. Still it was a bit better and faster than the Floo, though as far as magical travel went, Apparation was his preferred and easiest to endure method. Nothing beat the comfort of flying on a broom, though that had the unfortunate side effect of requiring to be high in the air – something he loathed along with anything resembling heights. Still, there was no way to decline this particular Portkey, neither did he dare to simply Apparate to Diagon Alley and made his way to Gringotts the slow way. Not after receiving that particular envelope from the bank.

Just a few minutes ago he was back in the practice, brainstorming along with two other muggleborn solicitors on how to tie up certain purebloods in red tape so they couldn't get their grubby hands on their half-blood bastard daughter and remove her from the custody of her muggleborn mother. It was then when a regal Gringotts owl flew in carrying high quality envelope with the Potter crest on it. That by itself was more than enough to make everyone present stop everything they were doing and stare. Ted was the most surprised of the lot when the bird landed gracefully in front of him, barked impatiently and shoved its leg along with the letter in his face.

When he opened it, his mind short-circuted for few moments. It wasn't every day, hell, it wasn't every decade that an old Pureblood family retained the services of a muggleborn solicitor. It was practically unheard of even when the more progressive and open minded houses were concerned. You know, like the Potters.

Considering how much Dore and Charlus Potter helped his wife to be and him when Andy got herself disinherited for consorting with him back in school, much less suffering the disgrace of marrying someone like him, there was no way he would refuse the offer. Then there was the fact that it would be an incredible feather in his cap, being put on retainer to House Potter! So he wasted no time, got himself as presentable as he could with a few spells and activated the Portkey that came with the job offer. That's how he found himself on a Gringotts Apparation point and being led deep within the bank by a grumpy Goblin.

The surprises continued coming. A vaguely familiar wizard in impeccable duelling robes stood guard at the door where the Goblin led him and he immediately recognized the Potter Crest above it. The older man nodded at him and that was that, the Goblin opened the door and waved him in.

Inside, as expected, Ted saw a small boy sitting on one of the chairs, a youngish Goblin who had to be the Account Manager who wrote to him – Spikedriver and… Ted halted in his tracks when he recognized the other wizard who sat next to Harry. Dimitri Veil, someone infamous both in the mundane and more importantly, magical world. He was a rising star on the political arena on the continent, one of the wealthiest men on the planet and someone who an ever increasing wizards and witches believed to be Dark with capital 'D'. Rumour had it that he was the public face of the new Dark Lord who made his first appearance in Bulgaria a few years ago, though so far the Aurors hadn't been able to make anything stick on him. To see that man being in here with Harry Potter of all people, the very thought chilled the blood in Ted's veins.

"Solicitor Tonks, its good to see you." The Goblin gave Ted a typical teeth filled grin. "I take it you're ready to accept a retainer as representative of House Potter?"

Ted whipped his head away from the amused Dark wizard to look at the Goblin. If he refused and left Harry alone with that man, Andy would skin him alive if he was lucky!

"Ah, Master Goblin, yes. I'm ready to accept the retainer." He took a deep breath and reinforced his Occlumency until it gave him a headache but put his emotions under a semblance of control. "I'm Theodore Tonks, Mr Potter. It's a pleasure to meet you." He gave the lad a reassuring smile.

"Splendid! Come here, check the contract and sign so we can get to business." Ted nodded, went to the desk and picked up the offered parchmentwork. He scanned it fast and it was what he expected – more or less standard contract for the older families, with the expected draconian clauses if he broke it. In this case, literally – if he broke confidence enough, he would be ending as dragon chow when, not if, caught. Knowing the Goblins, feet first.

He picked up the Blood Quill Spikedriver had ready and signed the contract with blood. Within moments Ted felt the magic binding him settling over his shoulders and sinking within him.

"Mr Potter, Account Manager Spikedriver, how can I help you today? And if I may be so bold, sir," he addressed the Dark wizard, "who are you and why are you here?"

"In order," Spikedriver began, "He is Lord Veil, Mr Potter's oath-bound Master. He is the one who suggested that Heir Potter meet me and retain the services of a solicitor. Our first piece of business today is to go over and file the parchment-work pertaining their Master-Apprentice bond and file it up with the Ministry post-haste. Second, we're to make certain of the exact legal status of Mr Potter as well as that of his available assets."

"I see..." Ted nodded and thanks to his Occlumency, outwardly he remained calm and professional while inside he screamed. Harry Potter, oath-bound apprentice to a Dark Wizard, potentially one who was the right hand of the newest Dark Lord stirring up trouble. The only silver lining was that by all accounts said Dark Lord wasn't a blood purist.

'Silver lining, Ted. Yes, think about the positives old boy…' He kept telling himself. When he was able to inform Andy about this she was going to be fit to be tied, he just knew it.

"Lets get to it then. I'll make sure that you know everything you need about any contracts you might sign, Mr Potter. I must warn you that you should not be signing anything without me or another contracted solicitor going over it first even if given your age at least until you're fourteen there shouldn't be many particularly nasty consequences but once you're that age, both magic and the law would consider you increasingly responsible for your actions. While technically, you won't be of age until sixteen in the magical world, that's by Ministry decree. The magic of the land would do so at fourteen and just a few centuries ago, it was even earlier."

Harry nodded though by his expression it was clear he didn't get it all, probably besides the basics – don't sign anything without proper supervision.

"We'll be covering the whys later, Apprentice." Veil spoke. "What is important right now is that you don't sign any contracts before your lawyer, Account Manager and I if I'm available, have gone over them for any nasty surprises until you're much older."

"I understand." Harry nodded frantically.

"Good." Spikedriver added. "Bloodaxe should have the contract ready for review and delivered shortly. Now that Solicitor Tonks is here, we can go over your legal status with his input, Heir Potter." The Goblin glanced at Ted and nodded at him to the sole remaining free chair in front of the desk. "Do sit in, Solicitor Tonks, we'll be here for some time. First, Heir Potter, we'll go over your status in the muggle world. Your legal guardian there is your aunt. Due to how the laws of our two worlds interact, the fact that your uncle has no blood relation with you means that he has any legal say in how you're being raised. Technically anyway." Spikedriver gave Harry a pointed look.

Only now did Ted take the time to take a good look at the Potter Heir. The wild hair and glasses, well he was just like a small copy of James Potter, that much was true. The green eyes were like Lilly too, however the lad had to be eleven, right? He was far too small. Ted frowned. Now that he looked at him properly, he could swear that the boy was either eight or particularly small nine or ten years old.

"Heir Potter, I'll make an educated guess, your time with your muggle relatives wasn't the best?"

Veil snorted at that and Harry winced. Merlin's balls, what did he just get himself into?! "Account Manager Spikedriver, I'll make the educated guess that Dumbledore was the one to put my client where he is staying?"

"What gave you that idea, Solicitor Tonks?" Spikedriver fired back in a sarcastic tone.

"The fact that he reassured my wife that Harry has been well taken care of and she could not visit because after Sirius the wards protecting his home would react unpleasantly to anyone with Black blood." Ted grumbled.

"Good to know." Spikedriver nodded to himself and made a note.

"Who is Sirius and why would your wife would want to see me?" Harry asked in a small voice. "Is she that Andromeda woman Spikedriver mentioned?"

"Yes, Andy. She was close to your great aunt Dorea and great uncle Charlus. If you consent to you, I'm sure she would love to meet you and tell you all about them."

"That sounds reasonable once we're done with all legal entanglements." Veil said.

That was both a relief and a source of concern. Ted wasn't looking forward to his wife and this particular Dark wizard meeting. The outcome could very well be explosive and hazardous to ones health, his in particular.

"With your permission, Heir Potter, I'll speak with her once we're done here."

Harry stared at him with huge eyes before nodding. "I would like that." He said quietly.

"To cover our basis, I would like my Apprentice to receive a full physical as well as to prepare the documents needed to lever child abuse case against Harry's current guardians. We'll hold them in reserve if they misbehave again." Veil suggested.

In his mind, Ted let out a long litany of curses.

"That would be for the best, I agree. The physical I mean. As your solicitor, I must suggest that pending the findings of the physical, we file in any pending charges and remove my client from any possible abusive environment. Mr Veil, as my clients oath bound Master why aren't you suggesting such a course of action as well?"

"Political complications. Dumbledore. I'm not yet aware of the full scope of his intentions towards my Apprentice and all out confrontation between us is going to be tremendously messy at the best of times."

All Ted could think of, was bloody hell. "You suspect more than mere negligence on the Chief Warlock's part, aren't you? I know for a fact that he has been tremendously busy lately. Probably because of your own Master if the rumours are true."

"I can't possibly comment, Solicitor Tonks."

"I see." Ted suppressed a sigh. "Account Manager Spikedriver, what is my client's legal status in the magical world as far as Gringotts is aware? I'll be checking the records in the Ministry as well after we're done in here."

"Heir Potter's situation is complicated. If there is a copy of his parent's will in the bank it is in the family vault, which will be inaccessible at least until Heir Potter is fourteen. Requests to the ministry to sent us a copy if they have one haven't been answered and the legal firm that represented House Potter was burned to the ground by Death Eaters three days before Voldemort attacked the Potters. Without a will and with all other close relatives dead, he should be in custody of his godparents. Sirius Black is out for obvious reasons and with Alice Longbottom unable to take custody…" The Goblin shrugged. "Until he goes to Hogwarts Heir Potter is in a limbo, which given the circumstances might be for the best."

"If your custody is challenged in the short term, the odds are that you might end up with a family of blood supremacists, Mr Potter. While the blood relations are convoluted, the closest distant relatives you have left either openly supported the blood supremacy cause, had prominent members doing it or are heavily suspected of it but managed to not be legally implicated. With the current make up of the Wizengamot, it would be a dice roll to see if the 'light' faction led by Dumbledore would be able to prevent it. And if they succeed, you'll end up in the custody of his supporters." Tonks explained.

"Given the circumstances, neither of those outcomes are acceptable, Apprentice. If it comes to it, I'll keep you out of the hands of people who would see you either dead or brainwashed, however that would require extra-legal actions and a direct confrontation." Veil explained.

"You're talking about starting another war." Ted couldn't hide his incredulity.

"If I was the face of the Dark Lord as people suspect, then it won't be a stretch to believe that once upon a time I was his apprentice as well, just as Harry is mine today. In that case, he would have taught me much if not everything he knows, Solicitor Tonks. At any rate, a war is not in my best interest and I would prefer that these issues are sorted out legally. At any rate, I do have my hands full on the mundane side and it would remain so for the foreseeable future."


	18. Interlude: Various

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.  
**

* * *

 **Interlude: Dumbledore**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Hogwarts**

 **UK**

A weary sight came from the old man behind the desk. A quiet croon answered him from a comfortable pillow where a small chick with tiny growing feathers looked up at him.

"There are day I wonder how we ended up here, old friend." Albus Dumbledore told his familiar, who was still recovering after its burning day.

"Chirp?"

"I'm not feeling exactly nostalgic. Merely a bit of melancholy. You know I always wanted to be a teacher, yet its been years now since I taught a class, even longer since I had any hopes of taking up an apprentice." The weary wizard continued. He nodded at the stacks of parchments covering most of his desk.

"Croon?"

"Who else? I had such hopes for James and Sirius..." Dumbledore closed his eyes and let out another tired sigh. "Alastor believes that the Black madness finally caught up to Sirius and I can't really disagree. The pressure of one's family could be a terrible burden and Sirius never fully grew up, never paused to think about consequences… And James…" He shook his head. "Perhaps Harry would do once he finishes Hogwarts. I simply hope we'll have the time with two Dark Lords rising."

Fawkes blinked a few times at his human and gently crooned at him.

"Yes, if Nicholas agree to my plea, I might just have the time to set things right." A flick of the wrist and the Elder Wand fell into his grasp. "With this and a few more years, perhaps a decade, of being in a top shape, it might just be enough. What do you think, Fawkes?"

"Chirp, Chirp!"

"I know, using Hogwarts as a trap is irresponsible to all the children under my care, not to mention their parents." Albus nodded sadly. "Still, its perhaps the best way to lure Tom in and deal with him before he fully returns and either allies with our 'friend' across the channel or they fight and tear our world apart. You were on my shoulder when I read those reports, Fawkes! You know what's happening on the continent! Terrified governments are making the situation even worse as expected and its all I can do to keep a lid on it here!" Dumbledore let a hint of his frustration show in his voice. "Why is so hard to comprehend that when people pile up restriction upon restriction on 'dark' creatures and cut off their legal sources of income, they have no choice but to flock to the Dark?! What do they expect? For werewolves to simply starve and die out of sight and out of mind? You know it Fawkes!" Dumbledore grumbled in frustration.

The ancient wizard glanced at the hidden safe where he kept the ICW's missives and not particularly restricted briefings – those that could be sent to him at Hogwarts anyway. As of the past week, there were just two werewolf packs on he continent left that weren't aligned with the Dark Lord over there. Worse, those consorting with him and his people were receiving training and equipment, including muggle weaponry! In comparison to Tom, Albus feared that he new Dark Lord was even more dangerous if not necessary more powerful.

He was sane, by all accounts charismatic and worse, he took care of his people reinforcing their loyalty… just like Tom was before all the empowering rituals and wanton use of the Darkest of magic drove him insane, not to mention, visibly striped off his humanity!

"Chirp, chirp, croon! Chirp?" Fawkes tried to soothe him.

"You think so?" Albus smiled at his familiar. "Perhaps you're right and I should take Harry under my wing when he arrives. Yet, I do want him to be safe! If people ever think he might be my apprentice and successor, I'll be painting a huge target on his back! He might not be particularly happy, however its for the best. I had hoped that I might introduce him earlier to our world, however with the new Dark Lord on the rise, he is safest behind the blood wards. Over there, no wizard or witch meaning him harm could reach him."

"Chirp!"

"I'm rambling, aren't I? I'm an old man, Fawkes. The worlds is growing darker by the day and there aren't enough people who have what it takes to stand against what I fear is coming."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: Voldemort**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Central America**

A middle aged, broad shouldered man walked down the stair of a plane with a pleasant smile plastered on his face. He nodded thoughtfully to a raven haired beauty he met on the plane while behind his Occlumency shields he screamed in fury and frustration.

He was Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Lord to grace Earth with his presence! He should be ruling at least a continent with his minions cowering at his feet and fighting for scraps of his attention and power! Instead he was forced into this – the body of a werewolf he unwillingly possessed and even now, despite all the bindings he could feel the wild beast struggling for control even if he already destroyed its mind and that of the cursed human as a precaution. Voldemort seethed at the reason why he was here in the first place – a new pretender was on the rise in Europe, one who had managed to consolidate his power over Werewolves and many other Dark Creatures up to the point his minions began sweeping the Balkans for anyone and anything Dark that wasn't aligned with him.

Under other circumstances, Voldemort might have been impressed enough to want to use the stranger, but that was before he has been chased like prey by weres armed with magic and muggle weaponry all across the forests of Albania, Serbia and into Austria! It was almost as if they knew or at least suspected who and what he really was and that wasn't a chance he was willing to take as weakened as he was! It too all his cunning and limited available power to turn the tables, dispatch a group of hunters and take one of their bodies for his own. What he learned from their broken minds before he sent the shrieking into hell…

It took Voldemort all his willpower and Occlumency not to rave like a madman at the thought! That upstart had succeeded where he managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory! He had at least the Bulgarian Ministry working with him if not already as his puppet, he had an ever increasing military force in the form of trained and well equipped weres and other dark creatures… For the time being, the continent was lost. Voldemort wasn't so far gone not to admit it to himself. He needed time, he needed a permanent body, one that wouldn't break down over the next few weeks, he needed to re-establish his power base and prove to that pretender and the world at large who was the most powerful and terrible Dark Lord in history.

And most importantly, he had to get back at the bastard for forcing him to mingle and travel like a dirty fucking muggle… even if he had to admit to himself as he examined the air-head babbling nonsense beside him, muggle women occasionally had a redeeming feature or two.

That thought gave him pause as he examined the woman again, who smirked when she noticed his roaming eyes. It has been over a decade before he lost his body since he had eyes or any desire for such things, to Bella's great disappointment.

Was this because of the body he currently inhabited? It wasn't enhanced by multiple rituals and that meant while much weaker, it hadn't paid the price for the speed, strength and endurance he used to enjoy. It was worth it of course but…

He returned the woman's smirk with a confident one of his own. It wasn't like he had much to do before his servant came to visit in a month or so besides plotting and scouting the ground… Only then he would decide if the Philosopher's stone would be best to give him a new body and access to practically unlimited funds or if it would be better to use the ritual after his servant delivers the blood of Harry Potter, unwillingly taken in order to sidestep whatever protection the boy had. At that thought, his fingers absent-mindedly caressed the disllusioned ring on his right hand. With it, and what he had hidden in his luggage he had almost all ingredients to build himself a new body.

Until then, he might have some fun. The muggle's body and screams would help him vent off some frustration...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: The Alchemist**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **unplottable location**

 **France**

For a third time that month, people sniffed at the outer boundary of the protections that kept the Flamels safe ever since Grindelwald's fall. This time around it was leeches, which made a nice change from the disturbingly well armed werewolves who came before – those two groups would put to shame whole squads of soldiers Nicholas saw during the second world war.

The ancient wizard glared at the three undead who simply watched the house and made no attempt to get closer. He wasn't sure if they were merely scouts or an intimidation attempt, hell he wasn't sure if they worked for whoever sent the wolves, though that was probably a safe bet. Three powerful Dark Lords rising in Europe in less than a century, the whole world was going to the dogs, the Alchemist was sure of it.

He heard soft sandals glide over the wooden floor and turned around with a smile to watch his wife approach. Even centuries later, Pereline was still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her Veela grandmother probably had something to do with it he mused as the short voluptuous woman walked into his study brandishing a parchment as if it was a short sword. Her silver loose hair trailed behind her like a sparkling veil and once again managed to enthral him, just like the first time he saw her all those centuries ago.

"Your apprentice wrote, Nick." Pereline declared and offered him the letter.

"I bet it has something to do with our uninvited visitors." He took the parchment and scanned it quickly, while his wife glared at the trio of leeches outside.

Nicholas rubbed his chin and the short beard that according to Pereline gave him distinguished look despite both of them looking in their mid-twenties thanks to the elixir and put down the parchment.

"Albie requests access to the stone and its properties. He is afraid that there is no one else who might be able to face off against the new Dark Lord and that Riddle has taken precautions against blowing himself up for good."

"He might be right." Pereline grumbled and a few sparks danced around her hair, a clear sign that despite her pleasant and calm tone, inside she was anything but. "At this rate we'll have to 'die' again and go to ground for another century. What do you think? Canada this time? Perhaps Australia?"

"You hate the heat, love." Which was rather amusing and atypical considering her ancestry, though he knew better than to joke about it. He liked sleeping with his wife after all.

"And you love to play with all the poisons and such Australia has to offer." Pereline countered.

"That I do." Nicholas admitted. "At this rate it won't be long before we're approached so someone could make as an offer we can't refuse." This time both of them glared at the intruders. "Just as Albie's old boyfriend did."

It was still a sore point for both of them that they unwillingly helped finance that man's war before managing to flee the continent and it was only thanks to Albus they succeeded in getting away. While they knew more magic than most wizard and witches could ream of and were reasonably powerful, against the likes of Grindelwald, Riddle or Albus, well overwhelming raw power counted for a lot in magic. Now, there was another Dark Lord who by all appearances had the might to throw it with those three and not be found waning.

That wasn't someone the ancient couple could trust their protections against. They made that mistake against Grindelwald and at least thousands paid for that miscalculation with their lives.

"You're considering it, aren't you, Nick?" Pereline came behind him and hugged him.

Nicholas rested his head on his wife's shoulder and sighed. "It might be for the best. If there is one person I would trust with the stone, its Albie. He needs to live at least long enough to find and train a proper successor against the Dark. At best, he'll succeed in vanquishing another Dark Lord or two and give our world the respite it needs."

"And he'll destroy the stone after he has enough elixir…"

"Albie has no wish for eternal life. He has too many regrets already and not the kind that he can fix with enough time." Nicholas pointed out. "He'll probably use the stone as a bait to draw a Dark Lord or two into a trap. He'll likely have it destroyed by this time next year."

"Well, we can always make another one..." Pereline whispered. "Besides we do have a lot of elixir stashed."

"You're on board with it?"

"I'm tired of the scrutiny and being hunted, love. Perhaps, its for the best if Nicholas and Pereline Flamel die as far as the magical world is concerned. For good this time."

"Do you want us to go muggle for the foreseeable future?"

"That's an option. You know as well as I do how they've advanced lately. No more huts half-buried in the mud or old cold and drafty castles."

"Unless you count Hogwarts."

"They're British, love. That explains everything." Pereline huffed in amusement.

"It does, doesn't it? I think we'll go meet Albie one last time once this Hogwart's term is over…"


	19. Chapter 7 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: The Sith's Apprentice**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **24 May 1991**

 **Veil's Residence**

 **unplottable location**

Harry decided he very much preferred normal transport – he would take a comfortable car or bus ride every day compared to the torture that was magical travel. He shuddered at the sensation of being twisted into a knot and stretched beyond the horizon at the same time as his Master's steady arm held him in place.

"Apparation takes some getting used to, Apprentice. It's much better when you're doing it yourself. Still even side-along is better than most portkeys and especially Floo." Mr Veil's amused explanation did nothing to reassure Harry. At least here he was going to learn magic so it was all good, right?

"What are you going to teach me, Master?" Harry asked without bothering to look around. All he noticed was that they were in a large, well lit room that had nice and new furniture. "Can you teach me how to freeze my relatives as you did?"

Mr Veil chuckled at that. "Eager, are you? I'll have to disappoint you, Apprentice. It will be some time before I teach you how to fling lighting from your fingertips, freeze people or choke them with magic."

Choke Dudley the next time he and his gang wanted to play Harry Hunting? Yay! Only then did it register that his Master told him he would not teach him the cool stuff now. And throwing lighting from his fingers?! How cool was that?!

"First things first, Apprentice. First, welcome to the rebuild ancestral seat of the Noble House of Veil. Now, as far as your training goes, you did vow to keep my secrets and we'll be making sure you're able to. You'll learn Occlumency first, a very useful discipline that will help you not only protect your mind but order your memories and help you process and retain knowledge, especially from books. That by itself is going to be damn useful in school."

"School?" Harry dared ask. That Occlu-thing did sound useful, just boring!

"I must admit that neither I nor most of my people have the temperament to teach novices at magic. Oh, we'll help, we'll teach you what we know, eventually, however going over most of the basics with you is going to frustrate us all." His master muttered something that sounded like 'if we're lucky'. "It's not all bad." The tone Mr Veil used wasn't reassuring, not at all. "You'll need to learn to meditate and clear up your mind first. Once you're able to do it on demand, I'll teach you a spell. You can consider that the carrot. The stick in this instance is the fact that I won't be teaching you anything else until you have those two up to par."

Harry nodded numbly. This sounded terribly boring and tedious.

"Walk with me." Mr Veil said and led Harry through a pair of tiled corridors, which had their walls covered with dark wood panels. They passed through a white metal door and found themselves into a small garden that had three tall trees throwing shade over the grass and flowers. "Do sit down and pay attention." Mr Veil followed his own advise and sat on the grass taking no heed of what it might do to his expensive looking suit. Harry followed the order and was surprised that the ground and grass were rather soft, but there wasn't the give of wet soil or even mud. It was actually quite comfortable.

"Now, there are various techniques to help you clear up your mind and some work better for certain people than others. For example, in my case trying to think about nothing, which some swear by, only leads to all kinds of stray and random thoughts running through my mind, which defeats the purpose of the exercise. Another option is to concentrate on a single thought until there is nothing else in your mind and slowly let go of it until your mind is clear. In any case it takes some practice to get it down. What you're going to do right now, Apprentice is attempt each of those approaches a few times so we can see if either one works for you. Close your eyes, relax and do your best, Apprentice."

"I will, Master. What are you going to do in the meantime?" Harry asked.

"I'll meditate as well and mentally prepare for a Hearing I'll attend in front of the US Senate at the end of the week. Now do go on, Apprentice."

Harry closed his eyes, did as he was told and tried to think about nothing. As his Master warned, all kinds of random thoughts went through his head in rapid succession. It was damn frustrating! It didn't help that he could clearly feel his Master's amusement through their bond. Harry paused at that. Could he use that bond to figure out exactly how his Master began his meditation and learn it this way? It might save him some time and a lot of frustration. Besides, didn't his Master tell him to try focusing on a single thought if the other method didn't work? Harry focused intently on their bond and did his best to let go of all other thoughts.

He soon figured out that it was easier said than done. This was going to be one long, long day, the boy decided.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

By the end of the training session, Harry was grumpy and frustrated. The best he could do was to focus his mind solely on a single thought and that was only when he concentrated on his bond with his Master attempting to use it. He wanted to learn real magic, damn it! It was disturbingly easy for his frustration to turn into anger and the cold, sickly sweet sensation that came with it was both soothing and revolting at the same time. He could almost feel the touch of something mighty just beyond his awareness and reach, which in turn ensured that both his frustration and anger grew.

"Temper Apprentice." His Master's sharp voice snapped him out of his internal tantrum. "I see I'll need to educate you about certain realities a bit earlier than I intended. No matter, it can be helped. Look at me and pay attention. Just now you could feel its touch, couldn't you?" Mr Veil looked at him with intense, dark eyes.

Harry gulped and nodded.

"This was the touch of the Force, Apprentice. The second power I'll be teaching you about and how to wield. In many respects its as dangerous if not more so than the darkest magics there are. It is a power that will seek to dominate and if you let it, corrupt you. Our passions, our emotions fuel it. When you feel anger, fear, joy and one day hopefully love, you could use those emotions to gain more power, as much as your body could handle at any given time. However, and this is most important, Apprentice, you must never let your emotions, nor the Force rule you. They are tools to be wielded, perhaps sometimes allies to rely on but they should never decide your actions."

"I'm listening, Master." Through their bond, Harry felt the chilling determination and exactly how serious his Master took this lesson so he did indeed had his whole attention focused on Mr Veil.

"The Code of my, soon our, Order, it contain six lines, six truths about us and the universe at large. _Peace is a lie, there is only passion."_ When his Master uttered those words, Harry felt something cold and wet drenching his whole being. Through their bond, something dark and ancient stared at him, examining and judging. "Peace, while it has its place from time to time, it means the lack of conflict and thus stagnation. People need adversity, goals and challenges to achieve and overcome in order to better themselves, to reach their potential and prosper. Many a people, whole civilizations had collapsed due to stagnation. Conflict on the other hand, both on the personal level and that of whole peoples, it is a drive for progress. It is a law of the universe itself. When you know enough, when you are fully fledged member of our Order, you won't have to hide and suppress your emotions any longer, Apprentice. In fact you can revel in them as long as you are in control. It is all right to feel anger and frustration. You have much better reasons to than many. However, you need to use those raw emotions, Apprentice. Don't be their pupped and don't lash out without thinking. Use them as a focus, as a source of power and determination."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **31 July 1991**

 **Veil's Residence**

 **unplottable location**

Once again, Harry sat at in his Master's garden, ready to receive another lesson. It has been two months since he became and Apprentice and perhaps more importantly, Mr Veil saved him from Durzkaban as one of his Master's people joked once. Today was a special day for Harry – it was not only his birthday, the first one he was going to celebrate that he remembered, but he had a decision to make…

Harry felt his Master approach long before he entered the garden – the man's very presence was like an oppressive shadow falling over the house and as if that wasn't enough, there was a lot of anger coming through their bond, though in comparison to what the boy felt, it was under iron-clad control.

"Is everything all right, Master?" Harry asked after he jumped to his feet when Mr Veil walked in.

"Various self-deluded fools are doing their best to test my patience Apprentice. Despite popular belief it is far from endless." Mr Veil took a deep breath and looked down at Harry.

The Potter heir saw that his Master's eyes shone like molten gold in the shadows of the garden. He knew that this was one of the few places and times where his Master allowed his true self to clearly shine through the mask he usually wore.

"That bad?"

"Once you have the time to properly go over your economy lessons you'll be able to understand why I'm quite peeved off today, Apprentice. However, those issues are no concern of yours at this time. Today your Hogwarts letter should arrive. Have you made up your mind on how you want to play this, Apprentice? It is your life and future after all. And do sit up, we aren't on a bloody parade." With those words, Mr Veil sat heavily on the grass, again disregarding what it might do to his expensive suite.

Harry followed his Master's example, while pondering his options. Well, on one hand, neither of them might get to make the decision, provided that Dumbledore actually paid attention to him and figured out his chance of status. If not, they had the option to continue the charade for at least a few more months at best, though depending on who would visit from Hogwarts to introduce him to the magical world, the game might be up in a few days anyway. On the other hand, Harry had to admit that there he was looking forward for the moment when the old man and whoever else was responsible for him ending under the decidedly not-tender mercies of the Dursleys figured out his change of status. In fact, there was a part of him that wanted nothing more than to gleefully sign his response letter as Mr Veil's Apprentice and damn the consequences.

"Dumbledore left me be treated little better than a slave and never came to check up on me. Or perhaps he did, which would be worse. If I'm to be honest, Master, I do want to rub it in his face and everyone who supports him that I'm your Apprentice. It is something to be proud of and I know that I would find the satisfaction tremendous." Long hours of interactions with his Master and his people certainly helped Harry got over some of the issues that came up with living in a cupboard under the stairs. Helped him improve his dictionary too and perhaps thanks to all the lessons and their bond, he sounded and felt more mature than he had any right to be – all good things in his book. "Yet, my mind is telling me that doing so, no matter the satisfaction, isn't the best choice. We need to know more about Dumbledore's involvement with my life and the best way to do it is to let him show his hand. How he reacts to my letter, who he sends, perhaps if he arrives in person or not, all those things will help us understand his game better." Further, Harry was glad that his Master let him make this call. He was vaguely aware that what Mr Veil was doing could be considered manipulation, or as he told him, teaching him. Whatever else it was, it meant that finally Harry had agency over his life, something he hadn't dared dream of not so long ago and for that he would be forever grateful. "I say let him show his hand."

"Good." That was all that his Master said, yet the pulse of pride and approval that came through their bond was better than any verbal praise Harry could have received. "The game is in Dumbledore's court then. In any case we might be forced to move faster that it would be ideal. If Dumbledore and his cronies manage do separate us legally for a time while your situation is resolved within the courts, there are things you need to know, Apprentice. You're already aware that I won't abandon you to the clutches of that man or anyone else for good. You also know that an open confrontation that goes beyond the legal limits won't be in our best interests in the short to medium term."

"You've explained it painstakingly before, Master."

"And you've understood my reasoning?" A glimmer of amusement passed through their bond.

"Enough for government work?" Harry tried.

"As often as not that is damning with faint praise, Apprentice." His master let out a sigh. By now he had his anger turned into nothing more than embers that barely registered through their bond. "Usually, you should make this decision later in your life – when you're older and have more life experience among other things." His master looked Harry straight in the eyes. "I've told you some things about my Order, about the Sith Code and what it means to be a Sith. One of the reasons I chose you as my apprentice is that due to the way you were raised until recently I knew that you would be eager to achieve one of the core tenets of what means to be a Sith."

"I do, my Master." Harry nodded.

"There is no peace, only passion. This is the first part of our code, the first thing I taught you about being a Sith."

"I've faced challenges and hardships since the day my parents were murdered. You gave me the opportunity to overcome them and everything else the universe throws my way. I won't be found lacking my Master! I will overcome any and all challenges send my way and overcoming them, I will become stronger. Through passion we gain strength. I won't be a slave again! I will honour you by achieving my potential and affirming the faith you offered when you took me as your Apprentice!" Harry declared passionately. "I would never again merely exist, I will never waste this opportunity you have given me and I will live!"

"You understand, good, especially for someone so young." More pride leaked through the bond and Harry felt elation. "Through strength, we gain power. What are going to do with it, Apprentice?"

"Victory. A life of my own choosing. Everything I've faced, everything that I will face, it would define me. It would give my life a meaning, it would make success that much sweeter. I won't be held back by bigots like the Dursleys nor by whatever Dumbledore wants with me! I will forge my own future with my own two hands! Through power I gain victory." Harry spoke with a pride that he didn't know he possessed. "Because without power, any victory is a fleeing thing. A temporarily illusion at best. Only through superior strength, my own, I can achieve meaningful victory, one that is my own."

For a time, his Master simply stared at him and their bond was silent until he gave Harry a sharp nod.

"This is something that is often misunderstood. While it is true that there are different kinds of victories and depending on the circumstances, one might be more valuable and useful than others, in the end the only guarantee that you've won, that your victory won't be snatched from your grasp in the last possible moment, is your own power. Allies, power base, family, all those can and often are sources of strength. They are important Apprentice, however at the end of the day, the one of the most important lessons that a Sith must learn and many fail at it, is that you are defined by your own power. It defines how reliable your victories will stay and that you will have a future. And through your passion, your power, the victories that define you..." His Master trailed off.

"Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me." Harry recited. "You know very well that I have trouble grasping this part of the code. If, when, we've achieved victory, when we've reached our goals..." Harry struggled to find the right words and like every single discussion on the topic since he learned the whole Code and began to understand it, they eluded him.

"You are not alone in this, Apprentice. During the ages many a Sith had discussed, argued or even killed each other over the meaning of this line. My chains are broken." His Master repeated. "One day, you'll have to reach your own truth and understanding about it. What I'll give you today, Apprentice is my own."

Those words ensured that Harry was all ears and he had his Occlumency on overdrive to ensure he would never forget what was to follow. His Master leaned forward and speared him with a heavy, intense stare before he began to speak.

"My chains are broken. I've freed myself of all restrictions and according to some, that means that I've achieved perfection." There was a grim amusement at the latter idea that shone brightly through their bond. More importantly for Harry, he knew in his heart that everything his Master was telling him was the truth as he understood and believed it. "The chains aren't just a Sith's restrictions, they are a symbol of any and all restrictions that a being could be under. Those of a society, of morality, your own and that of others. It doesn't matter if those are restrictions that someone else has placed over you or such that you've bound yourself with. Breaking your chains, it isn't as simple as being able to do whatever you want. That's what madmen attempt to do while being drunk on their passions until someone puts them down."

Harry nodded in rapt attention.

"For me, breaking my chains means that I'm free to reach my full potential. Perfect passions – your emotions to be under your own control and never to rule you. Perfect strength, which means to achieve the pinnacle of power that you could. To have the might of the Force at your fingertips, access to more power than your body could handle if unleashed in full as well as the will and control to use it or not as you see fit. This in turn, means that I have 'perfect' destiny, which means that I am the architect of my own fate and for the most part I am able to do what I want, when I want it. When you achieve all of that, this 'perfection', which is more of a goal than a state of being, then you're a Sith'ari, the perfect being. What all of this means for me, Apprentice is that I am master of myself. My emotions, my morals, what society, any and all societies in fact believe right or wrong, those have no control over me. Being a hero or a monster in order to achieve my goals?" His Master smiled and it was a deadly, chilling smile the likes of which Harry has never seen. "Raising other so they could work along with me for a common goal, perhaps even improve the lot of humanity as a whole? Being a patron of the arts and a philanthropist helping those down on their luck? To be the deadliest of enemies, a monster who sees whole civilizations, people and species broken by his will alone and turned into dust by my own hands? War, torture, genocide? I am free to choose any of those if they serve my goals. I am not restricted by morality, by my own sense of right or wrong, nor by my own conscience. This is what means to be the Dark Lord of the Sith, for my chains to be broken. If the situation calls for it, I could see this whole planet scoured of life and then rebuild it and its civilizations in my own image. Freedom, just like magic and the force could be beautiful and terrible thing."

"And the Force shall set you free." Harry muttered.

"The Force is our servant unless we fail in our eternal conflict with it and it becomes our master. It is a teacher, our eternal companion, our tool and a weapon alike. When we master it, we master the universe itself. In conjunction with magic, this truth has never been more relevant. Strive for perfection, strive to break your chains and the Force shall reward you, Apprentice. Eventually you will be free of the restrictions of others, of society, even those of your own mind."

"And what then?" Harry eagerly asked.

"For me? My wars are over. Now what I have left is to build a world where I could enjoy my retirement and spend time enjoying my life with my family free of any and all restrictions. For you? You'll have to figure it for yourself, Apprentice."


	20. Chapter 7 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 7: The Sith's Apprentice**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 _Proving paparazzi incompetent blighters? That's a public service. My wife enjoys her privacy and no, the public has no right of shoving their collective noses in my private life._

 _A pair of paparazzi managing to get themselves killed while trying to sneak in one of my properties? I'm still trying to wrap my head around those two idiots managing to break their necks vaulting over two metre tall fence…_

 _NYPD just made a statement writing off the deaths of Jonathan Smith and Cindy Mitleth as an accident citing video evidence from security cameras… This tragedy is the third time journalists trying to breach Mr Dimitri Veil's properties die under suspicious circumstances..._

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **31 July 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

An exhausted Harry trudged into his room and collapsed into the bed after depositing an expanded bag with the few gifts safe to have into a muggle house on the ground. It felt strange but good to be the one receiving presents for once and while it was exhilarating when it happened, he wasn't sure how he should feel now. He knew that due to his Occlumency training being still a work in progress, there were a lot of things his Master wasn't telling him, a lot of places he wouldn't be showing him and people he wouldn't be meeting. Like the sources of at least two of the gifts, who he suspected came from his Master's family.

He got to eat cake too and it was great, which was the best thing that happened in the afternoon after his training session. The only dark spot was that he still hadn't received his Hogwarts letter, which he almost forgot about between thinking over what his Master taught him today and all the excitement that followed.

"Boy, get down here!" Aunt Petunia uncharacteristically shouted for Harry. He groaned and got to his feet. He had been very glad to have minimal interactions with his relatives over the past two months and by all accounts, that feeling was actually mutual. What got into his Aunt today?

Harry trudged down the stairs and gave his Aunt a deadpan stare.

"What do you desire, Aunt Petunia?" He found her into the kitchen drinking tea and dealing with a small pile with letters and bills.

"It came." She grumbled and used an open letter envelope to push a large letter his way.

"My Hogwarts letter?" Harry didn't even bother to try keeping the excitement out of his voice. Just like that all the tiredness bled out of his small frame and he snatched it off the table. A single glance was enough to fill him with joy.

 _ **Harry James Potter,**_

 _ **The smallest bedroom on the second floor,**_

 _ **Privet Drive 4**_

 _ **Surrey**_

"Thank you, Aunt Petunia!" Harry exclaimed and ran up the stairs to his room, where he wasted no time and tore off the envelope to reveal carefully folded parchment.

He read the letter with a wide grin plastered all over the face and shinning eyes, then read it again. He was going to Hogwarts and wouldn't have to be anywhere near his relatives for the most of the year. Even if they had suddenly became practically non-entities, it wasn't like he enjoyed spending any time in the house! Harry much preferred time outside, especially with his Master or one of the instructors he hired to teach him! Besides, he did actually look forward to finding out what school might be without Dudley scaring off everyone who attempted to be his friends, not to mention that his Master warned that the friendships and contacts he might make over there might be very useful in the future, especially if he decided to call the UK his home.

Besides, this was his heritage, his birthright and likely what his parents would have wanted for him!

It took Harry some time to concentrate and take control of his jumbled emotions and fall on his training. This was it, the last possible moment he could change his mind and set another course. As his master told him, it was for him to decide how to answer the letter with all that entailed. He went to his desk, took a clean sheet of paper, grabbed a fountain pen and carefully wrote that he would love to attend Hogwarts. Only then did he look for an envelope to put his answer into and remembered that he had a few ready in a drawler prepared for today. With his own letter ready, and emotions finally firmly under control, it finally dawned on Harry that the only available way to contact Hogwarts offered in the letter he received was by an owl… which he wasn't supposed to have nor know that they could carry letters and parcels.

Was this a mere oversight by whoever wrote his letter? He grabbed it and went over it for a third time, this time without letting his excitement cloud his judgement. It was from Dumbledore, who really had too many names and titles, however perhaps that was merely a standard address form for the future students and the man had only signed a bunch of letters without actually reading them? It was either that or his Master's suspicions were on point and there really was something more sinister going on!

For a short while, Harry pondered what to do. Would it be wise not to answer and play at being unaware of everything? Or should he contact his Master so they can arrange for an owl to carry the answer to Hogwarts? What was the best play here, Harry wondered. He wanted to make the right choice here and by himself!

" _Apprentice, I can feel you apprehension and excitement all the way here. Did you get your letter?"_ His Master's voice echoed in his head.

" _I did, Master! I wrote my answer as well, however the only option to answer given is to use an owl!"_ Harry blurted out.

" _I see… You've gone over the options, I trust?"_

" _I thought about them, Master!"_ Harry exclaimed eager to please. He did explain his thoughts on the matter in as short and composed manner as he could manage, which he was sure wasn't up to par to his Master's high standards, yet.

" _Which options you prefer and why?"_

Harry thought for a moment before answering. _"Wait and see. While it might throw a wrench in my training over the next few days, seeing how Dumbledore would proceed would be useful intelligence as well as who might he send if there is no answer on my part. While I am eager to be officially presented to the Magical world and have a freer reign inside it, how it is done on Dumbledore's part is going to tell us a lot so waiting in this case might be for the best. We should bide our time."_

A sense of approval came over the bond. _"Then get to sleep, Apprentice. You'll be stuck with your books over the next few days while the ball is in Dumbledore's court."_

" _It still beats being the Dursley's slave. Good night, Master."_

 _"Good night, Apprentice."_

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 August 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

The following days were a mixed bag for Harry. While he didn't get proper training with his Master and the books on Wizarding history, etiquette and culture were dry at best and painfully boring at worst, there was a lot of amusing excitement to be, the kind that raised a lot of questions.

Early in the morning on the first, there were three letters addressed to him in the mailbox – again, from Hogwarts. Opening them, he found no difference compared to the one he got the previous day and went over multiple times. By noon, to his Aunt's frustration and his amusement, six more arrived. Yet, there was still no other way included to answer and Harry somehow doubted that simply putting a letter addressed to Hogwarts in the ordinary post would do the trick. He wasn't supposed to know where the place was after all, much less how to send a letter there without a post owl.

For a change, he did have dinner with his relatives, when even more letters arrived.

"Won't you just send an answer and be done with this nonsense before the neighbours notice?!" Uncle Vernon exclaimed after forcing Dudley to go get the post.

"I'm not supposed to know anything about magic nor how to do so." Harry glanced at his Aunt over a spoonful of soup.

"I actually don't remember how my sister sent her first acceptance letter. By the second time, she already had one of those dreadful owls in the house. There were feathers everywhere!" Aunt Petunia complained.

"For once I'm inclined to agree with you, Uncle Vernon. Most wizards might have more than a few screws loose."

"Then why do you want to go with them?" Dudley dared to ask.

"Learning magic and being away from here for most of the year." Harry responded in a dry tone, trying to imitate Mr Veil. That proclamation made Uncle Vernon's eyes shine in anticipation.

They finished dinner in silence, which made Harry wonder how his life might been if his relatives had been merely content to mostly ignore him from day one instead of treating him like a particularly unfortunate House Elf. Afterwards, it was back to studying, which didn't fail to frustrate and anger Harry. If it wasn't for Dumbledore and whoever penned the letters, he might have spent most of the day actually learning something interesting!

With frustration on the rise, Harry decided that he as unlikely to get much from the book, put it down and went to retrieve three small rubber balls. He used his unsettled emotions to focus on the cold, slimy feeling of the Dark Side and soon one of them wavered before slowly rising in the air by his will alone. Soon, the other two followed and Harry smiled. It was only in the past few days that he could barely lift more than a single object when he wasn't infuriated. Now, when channelling his emotions, he was up to three, though for the time being they had to be rather small and his control was still tenuous at best.

At any rate, this was much less frustrating way to spent his evening, he decided.

" _You'll still need to know the content of those books by the time you leave for Hogwarts, Apprentice."_ His Master's voice echoed in his head shattering his concentration. A streak of anger aimed at the man rose within Harry because of the disruption, which merely caused said Master to sent him a wave of amusement. _"Get back to reading, Apprentice."_ This certainly was no suggestion. Harry's anger evaporated as by magic and he did as instructed.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

"Boy! Get down here!" Uncle Vernon's roar unceremoniously awoke Harry. That hasn't happened in close to two months and it struck the boy how fast his old habits were gone. He should have jumped up scared of what he would blamed for and ran to meet his Uncle and whatever punishment awaited them. Instead, all he felt that morning was anger at the rude awakening.

"I'm coming!" Harry snarled and the cold tendrils of the Force tightened around him answering his emotional state. He threw away the blanket, almost tore away his pyjamas and got into his day clothes before stomping down the stairs with accidental magic crackling around him. He could feel Uncle Vernon's anger, which was suddenly replaced by fear the moment the large man saw him and that was simply exhilarating!

"What is it, Uncle?" Harry all but snarled.

Vernon gulped and pointed at the front door, moving aside so Harry could see. The sight of a small pile of Hogwarts letters on the ground brushed his anger aside replacing it with incredulity.

"The hell?!" Harry exclaimed.

"My thoughts exactly! There are owls outside too! A whole flock or whatever a bunch of those ruddy birds are called!"

"Really?" Harry opened the door and peered in the front garden and the up the trees around.

Yep, there were at least ten owls, almost all looking like they were from different breeds either on the bushes or on lower branches and all stared at the front door. They directed multiple indignant and impatient hoots and barks, not to mention the baleful glares they sent him. Harry snorted and glared straight back. "Will one of you come so it can carry my letter or not?"

One smaller, brown owl barked louder than the others and flew from the branch it sat on and without regard for anything landed on Harry's shoulder before hooting loudly right in his ear.

"Do this again and I'll bake you for lunch!" Harry snapped at the rude bird. The owl glared balefully at him, however remained silent.

"Madmen, all of you!" Uncle Vernon mumbled and went towards the kitchen muttering something about the neighbours.

Harry went to his room carrying the designated roast on his shoulder and grabbed the letter he wrote on his birthday then looked at the owl. "How the hell am I supposed to secure it?" He asked aloud before grinning at the bird and grabbing a roll of duct tape from a drawler. The owl gave it one look and tried to fly away with a surprised bark, however Harry was faster. Within moments, he had the bird in a secure telekinetic grip and taped the letter for its right leg. "Severs you right." He opened the window and threw the owl out, who flew away as fast as it could while hooting and barking angrily at him.

"Now lets see who they'll send my way." Harry looked around and grimaced at the amount of feathers flying all over his room. "Aunt Petunia had to be right for once, didn't she?" He groaned. He couldn't wait until he could use magic without repercussions, then he wouldn't have to clean his room the hard way! Well, he would first need to learn spells to do it, but who cared… "Damn it!" The boy grumbled after a feather almost landed on his nose.


	21. Chapter 8 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The road to Hogwarts**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **3 August 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

Strong steaming tea and a tray of scones appeared on Deputy-Headmistress McGongall's desk, carefully placed not to disturb the heaps of parchment – mostly acceptance letters, that she had to go through.

"Thank you." She told the Hogwart's elf who made the delivery, took a sip of the tea, absent-mindedly noting that it was just like she liked it and continued going over the parchment-work. By all means, this should have been Albus' job, however even if he was currently in the castle, the Headmaster was too busy dealing with this coming year's budget. In the past few years, he had been forced to give Minerva and Filius more and more of his duties concerning the running of the school, while he had to deal with politics – both domestic and international. It couldn't be helped when there was a new Dark Lord on the rise. The number of new students who would attend this years was a stark reminder of how important it was for the likes of Grindelwald and Voldemort to be stopped cold as soon as possible; This coming year would have the smallest classes ever since Minerva was herself a student in the school much less employed there.

The acceptance letters this year carried many names that reminded her of lost friends and too often those were of the last and only scions of old and proud families, both light and dark. Nevile Longbottom, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Oliver Wood, the expanded contingent of Weasleys, which brought a pained grimace to her face… There was hoping that the youngest brother didn't take after the twins and was more like William and Charlie… and finally, Harry Potter.

Minerva smiled a bittersweet smile. She could still remember the night when Albus brought the lad to leave him with his remaining safe relatives. While until a few days ago she couldn't recall the address – a safety precaution just in case, she finally could remember the place – a bland muggle neighbourhood with too many houses that were all dreadfully identical. She thought about what little she saw of Harry's muggle relatives and hoped that Albus had been right, that the lad was safe there. Merlin knew, that even after he somehow defeated Voldemort, the raid didn't really cease for a few months and less said for those who managed to buy their way out of prison in the aftermath the better.

The Deputy-Headmistress opened the envelope and read Harry's answer with a small smile tugging her lips – it was written with a quill she saw an indication that his aunt had told him about their world, which was a relief. Further, what she read wasn't the chicken-scratch that many muggleborn presented her in essays during their first months in school, which was another good sing. Minerva relaxed and her smile widened a bit at reading the polite response. She had to show this to Albus and to apologise to him. After all, she did berate him for months about leaving young Harry with those people!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

Meanwhile, in the owlery, a very disgruntled owl barked angrily at a pair of House Elves who were responsible for sending the Hogwarts acceptance letters and sorting through the children's responses before delivering them to the Deputy-Headmistress. Removing the strange black stuff that had secured the latest letter to the poor bird's leg had been trivial with their magic, just as sending it to its final destination was. However, none of that was enough to calm down the irate owl who went on a tirade berating ungrateful wizards and witches before going to his perch and refusing to leave the castle until the next spring. **  
**

**=TSA=**

* * *

 **4 August 1991**

 **Surrey**

 **UK**

For a second time in a few short days, Harry had the distinct displeasure of being rudely awakened. This time it wasn't his Uncle screaming at him. Well, Vernon did scream but that only happened after something struck the house and made it shake.

A wide eyed Harry rolled off his bed and painfully hit the ground still entangled in his blanket.

"What the hell is happening now?!" Uncle Vernon roared from his relatives' bedroom. "Did some fool crash into the house!?"

That was actually an excellent question. Harry crawled out of his blanket and warily made his way outside just in time to see his Uncle angrily march down the stairs. "Petunia! Dudley? Are you all right?" Vernon bellowed.

"Something is at the door!" Aunt Petunia shrieked.

"Where's my hunting rifle?! Petunia, call the police!"

Now, Harry got really concerned and wasted no time in contacting his Master through their bond. _"Master, there's trouble here!"_ He exclaimed. Harry felt the presence of his master leaking through their bond and knew Mr Veil could now see through his eyes. It took him a moment to ensure his master knew exactly what was happening and to his unpleasant surprise, said Master radiated smug amusement.

" _I think your official contact with Hogwarts just arrived."_ And just like that, Harry was aware that his Master was frowning. _"And if I'm right, this doesn't paint a pretty picture about dear Albus and his intentions for you."_

Instead of whoever shook the house doing it again, this time whoever was outside had the good sense to ring the doorbell. "Dursley! I'm here for Harry Potter!"

"Is that one of yours, Boy!?" Uncle Vernon snapped and looked at him from the cupboard under the stairs where he was busy rummaging for his hunting shotgun.

Harry shrugged. "How the hell should I know, Uncle?"

"Go check! I don't have to put up with this nonsense this early in the morning!" Uncle Vernon snapped and headed for the kitchen.

"As if I want to!" Harry muttered to himself. He gathered his courage and went to the door and warily opened it. A giant of a man covered the door-frame making sure that nothing of the outside world could be seen.

"Harry!" The giant bellowed ensuring that the whole neighbourhood heard him. He mangled the name with atrocious accent too, making the boy wince.

"Uh, yes?"

"Harry Potter!" The giant exclaimed even louder.

"Yes?" Harry repeated half-deafened. His Master's mirth didn't help his disposition at all.

"You've grown up!" Another bellow. "Are you ready Harry? We have a long day ahead of us!"

"Do I look ready?" Harry dead-paned and looked down at his pyjamas.

The giant peered at him over his large nose. "Then go get ready. We're going to go to Diagon Alley and introduce you to the magical world properly!"

"I'll go do that." Harry nodded and without thinking slammed the door shut in the giant's face before face-palming. "What did I do to deserve this?!" He wondered aloud.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **4 August 1991**

 **Diagon Alley**

 **London**

If there was one thing Harry enjoyed during the train-wreck that was his little excursion with the giant, who eventually introduced himself as Rubeus Hagrid or something in that vein – it was hard to be sure with the man's accent, it was the bike ride to London and back. It certainly beat all three mainstream ways of fast magical travel – Floo, Apparation and Portkey. The giant did mention that the bike had been enchanted too but he couldn't use it in daylight in order not to be seen.

They arrived at the entrance of the same pub his Master showed him when he brought him to the Alley the first time. This time, Harry was decidedly less awed by his brush with the magical world and paid much more attention to everything around him and especially what and how Hagrid introduced him to his birthright. Both the boy and his apprentice knew that at best no one should suspect that he was aware of anything but the bare minimum because of his aunt. It has been over a decade or more since she had any contact with the magical world after all and given what both of them knew about her, the odds of Petunia bothering or wanting to learn anything about said world were somewhere south of zero. Thus, who came to introduce him to said world and how they did it would be telling.

So far, Harry wasn't impressed. The few pointed questions he asked Hagrid, the giant answered with hemming and hawing before rumbling something about not being his place to explain. That mad Harry grip his fist and almost shake with fury. By all accounts, his Master appeared to be right in warning him about Dumbledore and the man's allies.

This time around, Tom's pub as Harry learned it was called, looked even worse than during the previous visit. The lustre that came with his first visit to magical location was gone and it was replaced by a contempt. The place was decayed, dark – only a few candles offered some light, the less said about the smell the better. When it was all said and done, it was like the place has been removed from some medieval movie. What almost everyone inside wore came straight from the past century as well, which by itself wasn't a reason to complain – what did Harry care what other people chose to wear? The fact that most of the clothing seemed less that comfortable or practical on the other hand… he at least still had the hope that they were enchanted or something to be comfortable despite appearance.

The train-wreck continued with Hagrid's loud proclamation that he was on Hogwart's business when the barman – Tom, recognized him.

"I'm with Harry today!" The giant bellowed, again loud enough to shake the whole building. For a moment, Harry hoped it was the sheer sound that made everyone pause what they were doing and stare at him open mounted. That hope died a sudden and unfortunately expected death moments later when everyone began clamouring for his attention and did their best to swarm him.

"Mr Potter! It's soo good to meet you!" An older woman grinned at him and offered her hand.

Warily, remembering his etiquette lessons, Harry smiled politely and shook the hand.

"I've touched Harry Potter!" The woman squeed with a blush and she was by no means the only one.

To the boy's disgust, it took his adult "supervision" a long time to chase off the crowd – long enough that he had to grit his teeth, keep his rising fury in check and politely greet and shake hands with most people in the tavern or whatever the damned place was. His Master's amusement shining through their bond didn't help matters, though on the bright side he at least knew he had his backing. _"_ _Do you feel this, Harry? Your fame can be a weapon too. Don't forget it."_

Well, all Harry could really feel at that moment was anger and frustration. _"We'll work on that soon."_ His Master promised.

At least once they managed to make their way outside and Hagrid showed him how to open the entrance to the Alley, using an umbrella of all things, the giant failed to bellow his name again, which was an excellent thing – the place was cramped just like his previous visits and Harry didn't want to know what would happen if the crowd tried to swarm him like the people in the pub did. They might squash him accidentally before the giant thought to do anything to help him. Well, there was another silver lining if small, with Hagrid's size it was actually easier to navigate through the place – wizards and witches parted in front of him, probably afraid of being crushed.

On the other hand, the disappointment in how the introduction to the magical world went continued apace – the giant did point at various places where Harry should be able to pick up what he needed for school… over the heads of the crowd so more often than not, the boy couldn't actually see the shops in question. If it wasn't for his Master taking the time to actually show him everything in the Alley during one of their previous visits so Harry knew his way around…

"Um, Hagrid, how am I going to pay for all of this? Aunt Petunia said nothing about money and certainly didn't give me any?" Harry eventually asked.

Hagrid had the gall to grin at him before pointing a meaty finger over the crowd towards the bank.

"Your money is over there, Harry. The bank of the wizards, Gringotts!" The giant proclaimed loudly.

The Goblins might have something to say about that, Harry thought but kept his mouth shut. It was hard enough to try and fake an awe of the Alley. He did indeed feel it the first time he was here, but now, well it was curious how fast magic could become a normal fact of life.

Meanwhile, Hagrid continued muttering about there not being any safer place in the world with the exception of Hogwarts. Knowing what he knew of his master, Harry somehow doubted those statements. _"_ _Well, I haven't have a reason to put it to the test, yet."_ Said Master pointed out.

Soon, they pushed through the throng of people and entered the bank. Fortunately, there were just few wizards and witches inside and the place appeared less busy than Harry's last visit. The boy took a deep breath, plastered his best curious expression on his face and insistently tugged Hagrid's sleeve.

"Um, Hagrid, tell me about these people!" He made a good show of peering at the various Goblins being busy all over the place.

"Goblins, Harry." For once, the giant tried to speak quietly, which meant that he failed to rattle the windows. "It's true they're clever creatures, however they aren't very friendly."

Well, the giant was right on the last account, however saying they were creatures, in their own bank… The boy wanted to face-palm, again. The Goblins heard the exchange too and pointedly paid the pair no attention at all, which Harry knew was an insult in return. It meant disregarding them as potential threats.

Hagrid led them to the desk at the far end of the lobby, the same one where his Master went during their first visit. The place was covered with more parchment than usual, however the old Goblin working there was the same. Said Goblin had obviously heard them too, because he simply continued to write with his quill into a very large leather-bound ledger without acknowledging their presence at least until the giant loudly cleared his throat. Then the teller gave them a withering look over his glasses, yet didn't utter a single word of greeting.

This time, Harry winced outright and wondered if it would be for the best to try salvaging the situation or if he should play along. His Account Manager wasn't going to let him hear the end of this for years to come, he just knew it.

"Mr Harry Potter is here to make a withdraw." Hagrid proclaimed and once again, there was no being in the bank who failed to hear it. Harry gave the Goblin an apologetic look and was rewarded with a displeased frown in return.

"Aha. Does Mr Harry Potter have his key?" The teller grumbled.

"Oh!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Wait a moment, its here somewhere." With those words, the giant began rummaging through his greatcoat's pockets.

Harry and the Goblin exchanged glances at the show. First, it was embarrassing. Second, why on earth did Hagrid have his safe's key? Well, his previous and most certainly not any longer working key. While the search continued, Harry discretely retrieved his own key from his pocket and showed it to the teller, who nodded gravely.

"Ah! Here it is, the little devil." Hagrid finally produced a key of his own. "There is something else, important." At this, the giant did his best to be quiet and it didn't really work. He pulled a small parchment bound with string and offered it to the Goblin. "This is from Professor Dumbledore!" He nodded emphatically. "It's for you know what."

" _Master, did I hit my head without noticing this morning?"_ Harry asked. His Master was too busy trying not to laugh aloud to answer if the waves of mirth bombarding Harry were anything to go by. _"This is priceless comedy material, Apprentice. Its something that one day you'll be able to show your children, I'm sure."_

" _This… I have no words to describe how I'm feeling right now!"_ Harry fumed.

"From safe, you know which." Hagrid continued unabashed.

"Very well. Give Mr Harry Potter his key."

To his credit, which really didn't help his situation, the giant simply shrugged and offered Harry said key. The teller spat a few words in his kind's language and a young Goblin Harry hasn't seen before came to escort them to the safes. At least the cart ride helped his mood a bit.

"Safe 687." Their driver soon declared. He gingerly got out of the cart and asked first for the lamp hanging from it then for the key. Harry gave his new key and the Goblin wasted no time in unlocking the safe, though just like the last time Harry was here, they had to wait for all the locking and security mechanisms to unlock themselves before the door could be opened.

"Did you thin that mum and dad would leave you with nothing?" Hagrid asked.

Harry put an open mouthed, awed or so he hoped expression on his face. There sure were a lot of galleons in there, however he had seen one of his Master's high security vaults in this very bank – that one resembled something from that Mr Scrooge cartoon that his cousin Dudley liked so much.

The disappointment continued – Harry had to stuff his pockets with galleons and they were rather heavy. Neither the Goblin nor Hagrid suggested that he could get an expanded and charmed pouch to carry his money and keep them safe-ish. It was a good thing that his Master did suggest that he prepare sensible clothes with a lot of pockets for today. At least there was something thinking about him and having his back.

A few minutes later, the cart deposited them on the lower level in front of safe 713.

"What is in there, Hagrid?" Harry asked curiously.

"I can't tell you, Harry."

" _And if it is so secret, why is he taking you along, Apprentice?"_

" _This stinks, Master."_ Harry muttered angrily in his mind.

" _It does indeed."_

"It's Hogwart's affair, Harry. It's very secret." The giant explained and missed the boy's eye-roll.

"Stay back." The Goblin demanded. Instead of using a key, he drew a clawed finger over the bricks near the door and the reinforced safe began clicking and grinding itself before the door slowly slung open. Harry peered inside and saw that the big secret was a small package covered with brown parchment and bound with cord. Certainly underwhelming appearance wise but who knew with magic?

* * *

 **=TSA=**

A whirlwind of shopping followed when they finally made their way out of the bank. For once, Hagrid proved himself useful in carrying a lot of the various packages with books, the cauldron and various other odds and ends needed for school – like the standard uniform, quills, ink, etc… The giant failed to mention that Harry should get at least a few sets of wizard robes, high quality too in order to be taken seriously by his peers – after all, during the weekends, neither he nor his schoolmates would be required to wear uniforms and what he wore on such days would be something by which the older families, especially their heirs at school would judge him. While Harry's Account Manager did make a point in explaining that the Potter family wasn't what it used to be nowadays and the old alliances were all but gone, first impressions and how he carried himself would go a long way in either eventually restoring them or burning many bridges without even being aware of it.

"Well, there's only a wand left we need to get." Harry said in relief after consulting his the list that came with his Hogwarts letter.

"Well, I know just the place. It's over there – Olivanders, the best wand-maker there is!" Hagrid proclaimed.

" _I wuldn't be too sure about that. There are some very good on the continent as well in the Americas and in Asia."_ Harry's Master continued with the often frustrating comments he had been running ever since they left the bank – like the fact that the cauldron that Harry bought was a waste of money – it was the standard required by Hogwarts, the cheapest too, however any family that knew anything about potion brewing would get their children a better, more expensive one that was harder to burn through in accidents and allowed a more even heating of whatever it was brewed within. It was another thing that some of his schoolmates would notice and write home about.

" _Master, I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to school or to war."_

" _Just be glad that I can't send you to Korriban to get your basic training there."_

His Master had mentioned Korriban and the Academy there before. While Harry had no idea what and where Korriban was, he was extremely glad he wouldn't be going there if the hints and emotions he got from his Master about the place were anything to go by.

" _Olivander is going to be an experience. I still remember my own visit there."_

His Master was right, again. Hagrid, the disappointment, went to get something else done, leaving Harry to face this Olivander alone and if it was at all possible, bringing the boy's opinion of himself and Dumbledore even lower.

The wand-maker's shop was lit by what appeared to be gas-lamps, something Harry reconed was dangerous given all the wooden stands along the walls and the hundreds small wooden boxes carefully placed on them.

"Hello?" Harry tried to sound timid.

A sliding sound echoed and an old, white haired man wearing a suit straight out of Victorian times came into view on a sliding ladder that allowed him to reach the half-hidden tall rafters in the back of the shop.

"Hello yourself." The man peered intently at Harry. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you, Mr Potter." The stranger gave Harry an enigmatic smile. "It feels it was yesterday when your mother and father came in to buy their first wands..." The man spoke to himself paying no more attention to Harry and instead went to look intently at the stands with small boxes. He retrieved one, came behind the corner and gently opened it revealing a wand laying on a velvet padding. He carefully picked up the wand and offered it to Harry.

The boy looked from the wand in his hand to the old man and this time his confusion was genuine. His Master had failed, probably intentionally, to explain what he must do when getting his wand.

"Wave it around!" The man, who was probably Olivander, exclaimed impatiently.

Harry gave him a deadpan look and did so. The result at least was something to behold – multiple drawlers in the back of the shop few out of their cradles and showered the place with pieces of paper and parchment.

"Wave it?" Harry looked pointedly at the shopkeeper and offered the wand back – carefully before he could bring the ceiling on their heads, accidentally, or worse.

"Obviously, not." The man looked disappointed for a moment before snapping his fingers and a wand appeared in his right hand. He waved it a few times without uttering a word and the mess fixed itself.

That was something Harry needed to learn, it would make cleaning his room so much easier!

Half an hour later, two broken vases, one lamp and a small fire and a cracked desk later, both Olivander and Harry were getting frustrated. Harry's Master probably was busy watching the show and munching on popcorn if what the boy got from their bond was anything to go by. He vowed to get his Master for this one day and went on with trying more wands to more and more spectacular and undesirable results. Eventually, the old man, who still hadn't introduced himself went to the back of the shop and returned with yet another box. This time he appeared somewhat apprehensive to Harry, something that didn't feel him with confidence.

Perhaps Olivander, or not, came to the front of the shop to stand beside Harry and very carefully opened the box revealing a long wand made of dark polished wood. The moment Harry took a hold of it, something snapped in place in the back of his head. Wind came of nowhere and whipped around him and he could actually _feel_ his magic surging in acceptance and joy. Even the Force took notice and he felt the slick sensation of the Dark Side brushing all over him before settling in. This was his wand, Harry knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Strange." The old man muttered. "Damned strange." He peered at Harry with wonder and shook his head.

"Excuse me, what's strange?" Harry asked.

Olivander tried to take the wand while Harry still held him and jumped with a yelp when purple lighting cracked and scorched his arm.

"Strange indeed." The old man grumbled and shook his smoking arm. "I remember every single wand I've made, every one I've sold, Mr Potter. This wand," He nodded at the one in Harry's grasp but didn't dare touch it again, "it has a Phoenix tail core. It just happens that said Phoenix gave just one other feather for wand making Mr Potter." Olivander looked gravely at Harry. "Just one other..." The man repeated quietly. "It's curious that this wand choose you, Mr Potter, because its twin gave you your scar." Olivander pointed at Harry's forehead.

" _Fuck my luck."_

" _I'm inclined to agree, Apprentice."_ There was no mirth nor amusement in his Master's voice this time. It was as grave as Olivander's.

"Who had that wand?" Harry asked. After all, he wasn't really supposed to know about Voldemort.

"We don't say that name, Mr Potter." Olivander came closer and looked Harry in the eyes while rubbing his singed hand. "It is not clear why the wand chooses the wizard or witch, Mr Potter even if my family has been in the business for over two thousand years. What I can tell you, Mr Potter is this – I expect great thing from you for certain. After all, The One-Who-Must-Not-be-Named," Harry could hear both the hyphens and capital letters, "did great things with his wand. Terrible, yet great."

" _He's right Apprentice. I do expect you to go on and do great things one day, certainly greater than Voldie."_

" _I will, Master, I promise."_

" _I'll hold you to that."_

Hagrid chose that moment to cause even more chaos. He knocked on the window and grinned widely. "Harry! Harry, happy birthday, Harry!" The man showed that he had a large cage containing a snow-white and displeased owl that hooted when it saw him.

Well, someone apparently figured out that I didn't have owl to send post to Hogwarts with, Harry thought.

" _Obviously. It took them long enough too."_

" _I'll have to explain this to my relatives, damn it."_

* * *

 **=TSA=**

A dinner at the pub topped off the underwhelming visit to the alley. The food certainly left a lot to be desired, especially compared to what Harry got to eat before and after training with his Master or his people. The stew itself looked appetising enough, true. The same couldn't be said about the wooden bow or utensils.

"Hagrid, the man who gave me my scar, he murdered my parents, didn't he?" Harry asked after poking his dinner and wondering if he dared use the wooden spoon or not

Hagrid finished a large spoonful of the same stew, which he ate from a bow larger tan most pot at the Dursleys – he should know, until recently he did all the cooking after all. To his small credit, the giant did look conflicted before he spoke. "Harry, first remember this, it is important." The giant looked intently at Harry. "Not all wizards are good." He declared as if it was some profound revelation. In other news, it tended to rain in England a lot, who knew. "Some go bad. Years ago, one went incredibly bad." Hagrid nodded firmly.

" _Ah, good old Voldie. I'm sure your new friend over there doesn't really know what being 'bad' really means."_ Harry's Master sneered.

"His name was..." Hagrid swallowed, "He was..." He gulped.

"Write it down if you want." Harry suggested after the giant's third attempt to say the name that failed miserably.

"I don't know how to spell it." Hagrid shrugged. "All right." The giant looked warily around, leaned towards and whispered: "Voldemor!"

"Voldemor?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

" _That's still better, yet less entertaining than your Volde-thing, Apprentice. It's a fitting tittle for that pretender."_

"Shh! Don't say it! We don't speak of You-Know-Who's name!" Hagrid chided. "Those were dark times, Harry! Dark times!"

" _Again, those people don't know the first thing about dark times."_

" _I wouldn't know, Master."_ Though, his times at the Dursleys used to be rather dark as well.

"Voldemort began gathering followers, he brought them to the dark side!" Hagrid declared in a solemn tone.

Harry's Master exploded in laughter at the very idea and the boy had to struggle not to roll his eyes or face-palm, again. It was really hard, too.

"Whoever stood against him, died immediately." Hagrid continued.

" _Isn't it curious then that even after ten years of immediately destroying his oppositions, the Volde-thing still failed to take over? I'm not impressed, Apprentice, what about you?"_

" _Even I can tell that he's waxing lyrical… that was the correct expression, right?"_

"Your parents fought against him," Hagrid continued. Yet, the Volde-thing failed to destroy them immediately, likely just like he failed destroying immediately most of his opposition or he would have actually won long before Harry was born. "No one survived if he decided to kill them." Uh, huh. Yes, sire. "No, one, absolutely no one, except you, harry." Hagrid spoke in almost reverent tone.

"Me? Voldemort tried to kill me?" Harry asked in a small voice.

"Yes, Harry. That scar on your forehead isn't a mere cut, Harry. A scar like that one happens when a curse touches you."

" _And isn't it curious that the curse that left you that scar is known to kill without leaving a trace on its victims? My bet is that it's a side effect from whatever protections your parents used to keep you alive and off the Volde-thing in the process."_

" _I'm inclined to agree, Master."_

"What happened with," Harry fought valiantly not to roll his eyes, "You-Know-Who?"

"Some say that he died," like the whole magical world, "rumours if you ask me," Hagrid continued. "Eh, I believe he is still alive. Weak and tiered perhaps, but alive. One thing is sure, something in you defeated him that night, Harry. Yer, a hero! That's why you're famous, Harry! That's why everyone knows your name!"

" _That's why everyone in the magical world will look at you all the time and judge you by an impossible standard, Apprentice. That's why this isn't how you should have been introduced to it. That's why you need to excel and be careful how you present yourself. You never had the option to be just Harry. You are my Apprentice and you will live up to my high expectations."_

" _I will, my Master."_ Harry declared with pride.

"You're the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry." Hagrid finished and went back to his stew.

" _Then why am I the boy-who-lived-in-the-cupboard-under-the-stairs? Why was I worked like a slave with no world from the magical world?"_ Harry snarled in the dubious privacy of his mind.

" _Excellent questions, Apprentice and once you're powerful and experienced enough, you'll get your answers from Dumbledore and everyone else, one way or another."_

" _That I will, my Master!"_

* * *

 **=TSA=**

When Hagrid finally delivered Harry back to Privet Drive, he handed him his train ticket and forgot to tell him how to get to Platform 9¾. That clinched it, neither Dumbledore, nor any of his people could be relied upon. At the very best, which Harry doubted was the case, they were incompetent and negligent! At worst, that remained to be seen.

His new, still nameless owl hooted at him and reminded Harry that now he had to explain the bird to his relatives. They weren't going to be pleased and for once with good reason too. Last time there was one of those in the house, Harry spent two hours clearing out feathers!


	22. Chapter 8 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The road to Hogwarts**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **6 August 1991**

 **Veil's residence**

 **unplottable location**

Among his lessons, one of those Harry enjoyed most was the one given by his distant cousin Andromeda. She and her immediate family were the closest thing he had to proper relatives, no matter how distantly related they were. While much of what she taught him was etiquette and the customs of the magical British high society as his Master put it, said lessons were much more comprehensive and less dry than the books he had access to. Further, even if she was a disinherited Black, Andromeda did have a better grasp of the political realities in the country than most, more importantly, she was the most reliable source either Harry or his Master had on the Potters, their history and alliances.

The latter were in a sorry state at best.

Harry sat across a coffee table from his cousin on a second floor balcony overlooking a large garden at the back of the property. They had tea and various kinds of snacks spread between them and he had to watch his conduct as if hosting the cream of the magical society.

That Harry was ready to admit was something he didn't enjoy at all. While one day he might be powerful enough not to care for such niceties, his Master did make the point that observing certain traditions and properties might make the difference of long and frustrating conflict and avoiding it all together so he could dedicate his time to something more useful, not to mention pleasant.

"The Potters are an old family, Harry. With age come the weight of history, expectations, alliances and enemies." Andromeda began every lesson by drumming this piece of knowledge in his head. "On top of all that, you're the boy with too many hyphens in his tittle." The witch allowed herself a brief smile before once again becoming a perfect mask of cold, pureblood superiority, something she had seldom had to use since hooking up with her husband and everything that followed. "We've covered the notable points of the Potter family history I'm aware of. You'll no doubt need to go through the contents of your House's vaults and properties as they become available if you wish to learn more. If you're lucky, there would be surviving portraits of your ancestors and they would be able to fill up a lot of the holes."

"It is on my to do list, cousin." Harry said after very carefully and deliberately taking a sip from his tea before returning the glass to its small porcelain dish.

Andromeda peered at him intently all the while and judging by her small nod, he avoided making a faux-pass. This time anyway. All this high society nonsense was bloody frustrating!

"Today we'll cover the more recent alliances of the Potter family and how they're relevant to you and your time at Hogwarts."

This statement made Harry pay even closer attention. They have been building up to this for the past few weeks now.

"When the Dark Lord began his rise, there were three large political factions in our society with a myriad of smaller ones jockeying for influence and often concentrating on a few pet peeves of their members. First, and most relevant to you was the Neutral League, led by your great-uncle Charlus Potter. Under its broad umbrella it gathered both light and dark families who either saw the other large groups as too extreme or had a mix of agendas that didn't align close enough with them to be members. The Neutrals stood for a slow but steady change, something that many saw as a good thing in the aftermath of Grindelwald's war. That madness tore our world apart, Harry. I won't pretend that many muggleborns and half-bloods lacked a justification to join the one man who promised them better lives, equality and could actually deliver. However, his war tore through Europe, parts of the Americas and Asia alike. While our shores didn't see open combat, there were a lot of assassinations and clashes between those who supported his ideals and everyone else. The conflict brought low once great families – either as they tore themselves apart at home or faced each other on battlefields all over the world. In fact, the marriage between uncle Charlus and aunt Dorea was accepted by both the Potters and the Blacks as a sign to everyone else that it was time for healing."

"Among other things." As young and inexperienced as he was, Harry already knew that back in the day, which by the magical world standards wasn't that long ago at all, any such a union would have many reasons that would benefit both Houses.

"Indeed." Andromeda gave him another small nod of approval. "The Neutral League along with Dumbledore's Progressive fraction managed to eke out an unstable majority that is responsible for muggleborns and half-bloods without backing from the old families having the same legal status nowadays as everyone else. At least on paper. We both know enough to believe that some people aren't more equal in front of the law compared to others, especially in the magical world."

In Harry's experience, that was true as well, especially if some of his uncle's boasts held a hint of truth. Otherwise, he might not have spent years living in a cupboard – after all, the mundane world had people who were supposed to look for and deal with such cases but apparently, that wasn't the case when a pillar of the community as Vernon was concerned. It was moments like that, which made Harry glad that his Master had sought him and offered him both training and access to power and influence that he would not have even dreamed of before.

"This brings us to you, Harry." Andromeda paused for a moment to elegantly pick up her cup with two finger and take a lady-like sip before effortlessly returning it to its place. As usually, she made Harry feel clumsy without even trying. "The fiction books about you," which was a can of worms that Andromeda's husband, Ted had his colleagues working on disentangling after Harry put the whole law firm on a retainer, "the history books about the Dark Lord's rise and the Blood War, rumours and all the expectations that come with those. Many believe or want to believe that you will be an icon for all that is good and light, that you will be Dumbledore's golden boy at school and a shoe in into his Progressive faction once you join politics after graduation. By the way, this likely covers almost if not all current members from both the Progressive and Conservative faction. As you already know, the latter contains most of the dark-aligned families with a few key exceptions. More importantly, the weakened Neutral League would likely have broadly the same expectations even if they would hope differently. You see, the League, while supporting full integration of muggleborn and various magical sentient races into our society was a big on retaining our traditions, which in turn was a major sticking point between them and the Progressives. That is in fact one of the agendas that they share with the Conservative faction in politics. Further, and that is something that the League was hit often and repeatedly over, is that their read of what dark magic is and should be acceptable is generally much broader compared to what the Ministry legislates or what the Progressives would ever accept."

"What about the Conservatives? How do they view magic?"

"The bulk of their members are dark aligned families Harry. It should be obvious – with the exception of the Unforgivables and actual black magic, they see nothing wrong with all other branches of wizardry and witchcraft."

That was more in line of what his Master believed, not that he had any issues with using anything and everything that might get the job done as long as it didn't mess up with his mind.

Harry knew that they were still covering merely the bare-bones of the British magical politics, in broad strokes at that. Those were things that most of his peers, those he would have to impress or at least not disappoint for when they wrote about him to their parents, would have learned on their mothers and fathers knees. He had a lot to learn and precious little time for it. It was a good thing that no one would really expect him to actually dabble into politics for years – all he needed to do was not to mess up how people viewed him and thus his future prospects. That, however might be easier said than done. It sounded that no matter what he did, he would be disappointing and alienating people. The question was who he wanted in which category and honestly, he didn't know enough to decide one way or another. What Harry knew was that he was wary of being seen as aligned with Dumbledore and his supporters; not after his disastrous introduction to the magical world at large a few days ago.

"What this means, Harry, is that many if not most of your schoolmates will watch you closely and write home about everything of note. This in turn will make their parents evaluate you and decide if they should even entertain the thought of approaching you about eventually restoring the alliances your family was part of. If you have appeared at school unfamiliar with our world and acted as the regular muggleborn, well." It wasn't often that Harry saw Andromeda frown. "It is not a stretch to believe that in a few short years at best you would have made yourself untouchable politically by anyone but the Progressive faction. After the Blood War, the League doesn't just need a Potter, Harry, not just the Boy-Who-Lived. In order to approach you, they would need to see the making of a giant, like uncle Charlus. They lost too many people, too much treasure standing against the Dark Lord besides your family to do anything else. Harry, who do you want to be? This will define how you should bear yourself when you go to Hogwarts, who would approach you and befriend you and eventually, which side will accept you politically. Usually, the way you were raised at home would determine all of that but in your case, you do have more choice than most."

"A good question, cousin. I wish I had a good answer."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **6 August 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

 **Scotland**

Green flames lit up the Headmaster's office and a grotesque caricature of a man more fit to scare children that walk in the day of light stumbled into the spacious room. A wooden leg clacked on the stone floor and an artificial eye spun within a jagged eyehole observing and filling up everything in range. The crippled Auror straightened up as much as he could because of his old injuries and shook to clear up the floo-powder on his black coat.

"You called, Albus." The man stated gruffly once he was reasonably sure there was no ambush awaiting him in the office.

"That I did, old friend. Come and sit." The ancient wizard sitting behind his desk waved over large stacks of parchment. "How are the new hopefuls?"

"Even with the increase of budged, we won't be up to par for years!" Moody grumbled. "Bagnold and Fudge fucked us nice and hard Albus!"

"You know very well that there was a great deal of rebuilding to be had after the war ended, Alastor and taxes can do only so much with the population so gutted and scared to invest." Dumbledore said tiredly. This was an old argument for the two of them. While less than ideal, the austerity measures of the previous government and the current one in the aftermath of the war were all but inevitable. The corruption didn't help nor did the continued rise in power of the Conservative faction who until a few years ago had a vested interest to keep the Auror Corps weak and understaffed. If there was one good thing that came from the rise of the new Dark Lord, it was that it finally made certain people to rethink their priorities. It helped that for all the man's known and suspected sins, he wasn't a blood supremacists unlike many a Conservative Magical Britain. On the other hand, that mysterious man was much closer to Gellert in agenda and modus operandi, which made Albus uneasy for various obvious reasons. The last thing either the muggle or magical worlds needed was another war rivalling the butchery from the first half of the century!

"We'll never agree on that point, Alastor. The measures we took did help many a family get back on their feet after they lost almost everything they possessed. Are there any notable candidates?"

"Nymphadora Tonks passed all preliminary tests with distinction. If she proves herself suitable over the next few months, she'll be in the training program come next year."

"The Blacks, again." Dumbledore sighed. "You will keep an eye on the lass, won't you?"

"Of course, I will!" Moody snapped. "We've both long suspected that both Blacks were allowed to break ties with their House so the family would have a safe bet no matter which side won the war, otherwise the odds of both of them living past school even with Potter's protection weren't good. No one really went after Andromeda Tonks and her family, not even her insane sister."

"Bellatrix." Dumbledore sighed. Yet another one of his students he failed.

"You can't save everyone, Albus. Some people don't want to be saved and others would only take advantage of your offer and go back to their old tricks the moment they believe they can get away with them!" Moody pointed out.

That was yet another old argument between the two of them. "Many of those people were my students, my responsibility, Alastor! Besides, from what we've seen, Andromeda at least hasn't gone the way of her family, neither her husband, nor young Nymphadora! She did break up with the family magic, that much I know!"

"So did Sirius Black and we all know how that turned out!"

"We do." Albus let out another sigh. "I didn't call you to revisit old arguments, Alastor."

"We'll be doing it until you let go of your saving everyone complex!"

"I'm not that bad, old friend."

All that came in answer from Moody was a disbelieving snort. At least he finally made his way to one of the comfortable chairs placed in front of the desk and sat after carefully examining it for any unpleasant surprises.

"You are and we both know it! Now why did you call me?"

"He's been quiet on the continent over the past few months. The ICW investigators can confirm only three sightings since May and those were more or less routine – visiting various Vampire and Werewolf gatherings, making promises and negotiating. He is up to something, possibly expanding either in the Americas or in Asia. So far we have no confirmation of any sightings or major activities from the Dark Lord or his people there. I'm more concerned that he might be quietly putting feelers or even checking the water domestically."

Moody raised the eyebrow over his single natural eye. "Right under our noses? I haven't heard anything in that vein from the usual suspects. Voldemort's bests are either in Azkaban or fled to the continent after he got himself blown up."

"Right now I'm less concerned about overt actions. From what we've seen and can infer, this one prefers political subversion – much like Voldemort before he became unhinged."

"Like he did in Bulgaria – from everything I've found and you've told me, he either run their Ministry himself or through puppets and he achieved it legally." Moody nodded.

"And before we knew what was really happening he got more or less free reign over the Balkans and large tracks of Eastern Europe. That was before he began making inroads with the Russians too." Dumbledore grimaced. "Alastor, I need you to poke the usual suspects, look for any new arrivals, people acting out of character or trying to recruit for a new player. Until now, he has been weary of operating in our home, but I fear that is about to change."

"The Potter boy? I heard he already visited Diagon with Hagrid. Do you think that he would want agents placed to observe him and evaluate if the Boy-Who-Lived is a potential future threat now that the lad is in the spotlight? And what were you thinking when you sent Hagrid with him?"

"That's a concern." Albus nodded. "With Voldemort around, the last thing either we or Harry needs is the attention of the other Dark Lord wort the tittle. As for what I thought, Harry's parents were with us. It is his heritage to join our side and make them proud. If we don't stand for what is good and decent in this world, then who will? Harry is a symbol, a powerful one and one day he might just be the one to bring our world around to the light."

"If I didn't know that you were waxing poetical here, I would be concerned, Albus."

"I'm no fanatic, nor a crusader, Alastor. Merlin knows, if I was one and had the fanaticism to carry it through, I would have done terrible things with my power."

"It's almost worse that you're afraid to use it." Moody gave him an accusing look.

"I know better than most the price of using one's power unwisely, Alastor." And I would carry that burden until my dying breath, perhaps into the grave as well, he added in his head. "I do stand for what is right and just, even as I know how easy it would be to force people to follow my vision. If I did it, sooner than later I would awake one morning and when I look myself in the mirror I would see another tyrant like Grindelwald. If I walk that way, when I look down at my hands, I will find them red with innocent blood!" With every word, more and more magic build up within and around Albus making the whole room shake. "I made a vow, Alastor! Never again!"

"Peace, Albus!" Moody raised both hands in surrender and let out a sigh of relief when the heavy pressure of Dumbledore's magic moved away from his shoulders.

"Hagrid is a good man, one of those I trust with my very life." Albus continued as if nothing had happened. "He is ideal to show Harry the friendly side of the magical world, something that would be sorely needed after being raised by Petunia. I do remember the girl – once upon a time she was so eager to have magic and be just like her sister before that amazement turned into bitterness. I know that Harry wouldn't have had the most pleasant of childhoods and if it wasn't for Voldemort and the new Dark Lord, I might have dared remove him from the blood protections. As thing stand, I will have to return him to his relatives come next summer. Unless I keep him close to me all the time, which would make him into even bigger target, this is for the best." Albus admitted.

"He'll come in here and act as a typical muggleborn at best, if for no other reason because he won't know any better." Alastor thought aloud. "Once they see how he dresses and acts, no child of the Conservative family, unless we get another rebel like Black, would want to have anything to have to do with him. They will see him disregarding all the traditions some of us hold dear."

"It's for the best." Dumbledore repeated. "There are harmless traditions, some are benign, even useful. Many others have dark roots and leave too much space to be abused. I won't stand for it, Alastor, not after I saw how people like Grindelwald and those who followed him could pervert them! It's been over fifty years yet when I close my eyes I still often see the experiments, the sacrifices and rituals, all those innocent victims, magical and muggle alike! I see people like him during every ICW session, Alastor! The world outside is dark and full of terrors! We need to break with our bloody past or it will consume us again!"

"It's speeches like this one that would ensure that the Conservatives and many from the League would oppose you in the Wizengamot until their dying breath."

"I know I'm right, Alastor and as always, I'll do what I believe I have to in order to safeguard our world."


	23. Chapter 8 Interlude&Part 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The road to Hogwarts**

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: The rogue witch**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Tonks residence**

 **UK**

This day, reminded Andromeda Tonks, nee Black for the good and bad old days when she was still part of her House and had the comforting presence of their family magic in the back of her mind. While she didn't regret the choices that brought her here, and not just because her relatives decided to follow a madman that ultimately led them all onto ruin, she would have preferred to have both her husband and lovely daughter under the aegis of House Black with all that entailed; even if it was a pipe dream.

Heh, in the end she had the last laugh. She was alive, happy, and her daughter, who was of no longer pure Black blood was the first full Metamorphmagus in the family in generations. So much for any notions of mere pure blood being superior. Or perhaps it was just that Ted was that awesome… She stifled an unladylike snort and checked herself in the mirror one last time. She was about to meet a Dark Wizard under the protections of her home, something that she would have very much preferred to do under the close watch of ancient charms, enchantments and curses ready to liquefy any outsider with the temerity to try and harm a Black under their own roof. At the same time, Andromeda felt the lack of the potent dark magic of the Blacks more acute than she had in years.

If she was still a proper Black, there wouldn't be a need for this meeting; Harry might have already been safe and under her protection. Or perhaps, nothing would have changed. She knew very well that the moment the masses believed Sirius guilty, the stigma of the Blacks would tarnish her family as well and without any of the benefits. It couldn't be helped, not when her Grandfather did indeed bring her into his presence and explained to her in painstaking detail why she was allowed to break from the family and live to tell the tale. It was at the same time he bound her not to spill their secrets on the pain of eventual death.

The Blacks did love their black curses, pun intended.

Andromeda pulled herself from those thoughts with an effort and looked herself in the mirror. A regal, powerful and distant vision of Pureblood superiority looked back – just like her family drilled into her while she was still in the fold. From the way her hair fell like a waterfall over her shoulders, to the long black robe that despite its elegant cut did nothing to constrict her movements, to the tall knee-long boots.

She hadn't dressed that way in years, unless it was for a few special nights with Ted…

The witch felt someone Apparate to the edge of the charms forming the outer boundary of the house's defences and as he approached, she recognized the token that would allow him to reach the door unmolested while the protections were at full power.

Three knocks echoed from the entrance and Andromeda glided to meet her visitor. A wave of her wand opened the door to reveal a not particularly tall young man wearing an expensive suit that was the height of muggle fashion.

"My Lady, I'm Dimitri Veil, from the Noble House of Veil." He introduced himself." He gave her a proper bow that screamed a well bred Pureblood, just like the tone he delivered it with. As the old traditions dictated, Andromeda offered her right hand and as expected did receive a kiss in return.

It was all very proper, traditional and old-fashioned, especially when the modern muggle world was concerned. She wondered if this was a message or a test, just like her dress and the mask she wore were. If there was one thing that she never missed from her childhood and early teens was this kind of dance that came with being a lady of house Black. While there was part of her that revelled in the attention, the rest of her found it stiffening and immensely frustrating. It was the same part that led her to knowing Ted better and everything that followed.

"Welcome, Mr Veil. I am Andromeda Tonks, from House Tonks, formerly from the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Do come in." She led her guest to the dinning room where a set of tea and snacks awaited them. A flick of the wand had the tea served and soon both of them sat facing each other across the table.

Andromeda expected a lot of the Dark Wizard sitting across the table, a soft bemused smile wasn't one of them. While he did carry himself with confidence and power in the best Pureblood tradition, he didn't radiate the sense of superiority many Puurebloods had when interacting with her after she cut ties with House Black. She couldn't find even an iota of it in either his speech, nor bearing, which was a positive sign, she hoped. He didn't speak, not even an attempt for small talk. He simply watched her with that damned bemused expression on her face, leaving to her to begin the conversation. After all, it was she who desired this meeting, it was she who wanted something.

"How is my cousin, Harry Potter, Mr Veil?" Perhaps it was impulsive and not at all how it should be done properly, however when it was said and done, Andromeda had never had much patience for all the normal games of magical high society. Besides, it would be telling how her guests would respond.

"Better now that he no longer lives in a cupboard." Mr Veil answered in a matter of fact tone.

It took much of Andromeda's self-control not to flinch. With her husband bound by various magical agreements not to disclose details about his client, all she knew for sure were the odd hints he dared give her and none of those were encouraging.

Damn Dumbledore and his good intentions!

"I see." Andromeda answered in a calm, bald tone mirroring her guest. "May I meet your Apprentice, my young cousin, Mr Veil?"

"Given some guidelines and precautions are observed, I see no reason to refuse such a meeting."

That was potentially good news, depending on all the strings attached.

"Let's not tiptoe around the topic, what are your conditions, Mr Veil?"

"You will keep the fact that Harry Potter is my Apprentice confidential until we either give you a permission to disclose that fact or it becomes a public knowledge, acknowledged by me and my Apprentice. You will keep any of my secrets you might learn while communicating with my Apprentice." Veil said and took a sip of his tea – just like any well trained Pureblood would.

Andromeda waited for more conditions, however the man remained silent and his expression did not waver.

"If those are all your conditions, then I find them more than acceptable, Mr Veil."

"Then if you're free, you can visit my Apprentice after his training in two days time. Does Monday at noon sound good? You'll make it just in time for lunch, Mrs Tonks."

"I will be there if you provide the address."

"I'll provide you with a Portkey through your husband. Of course, you'll enjoy the hospitality and protection of the Noble House of Veil while under our roof."

"I'm pleased to hear it." Andromeda took a sip of her own tea and used the brief pause to buy herself more time to think. So far the meeting wasn't going at all how she was expecting. A normal Pureblood wouldn't have missed a beat in extracting concessions in order to allow her to meet Harry. Veil sounded too reasonable and collected, all she knew of him so far was the mask that he was showing her. "May I presume to ask, what are your intentions towards my young cousin?"

"He is my Apprentice. I want him to be everything he can be, Mrs Tonks. He will learn everything I can teach him if he so desires." And coming from an acknowledged Dark Wizard like Veil, that was an ominous proclamation. She was sure that this wasn't something Lilly and James would have approved of, yet Aunt Dora and Uncle Charlus… they did fight against Grindelwald after all so their reaction would depend on the details. Andromeda herself… she was most concerned. Did Veil want to turn Harry into a weapon? Perhaps a successor just as it was rumoured that he would one day succeed the Dark Lord running wild across Europe?

Oh, if her family could see her now, they would likely be green in envy – the last free daughter of House Black, acting the perfect Pureblood princess and having tea with a powerful Dark Wizard, the rumoured apprentice of the current Dark Lord no less! That thought brought her many mixed feelings.

What was she supposed to say to this admission? That it was good to hear? That it would happened only over her cold, dead body? That the part of her that contained the void where the Black family magic used to be craved to be close to and practice dark magic, to learn new one?

Andromeda's guest took another sip of his tea and smiled at her. This time the bemusement vanished from his face and he appeared to be genuine. "You might just do, provided that I like the woman behind the mask too. Harry does need a proper tutor in all the Pureblood etiquette and culture."

This offer, Andromeda didn't expect at all.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

 **11 August 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

 **Scotland**

It took Albus many long nights and the help of his staff – both at Hogwarts and the small trusted cadre he had at the ICW to finally make a dent in the parchment-work needed to begin both the coming school year and make sure there would be no major international disasters, until something blind-sided them all anyway. Finally, Albus was able to relax a fraction and begin to go through various less important and immediate concerns, which would hopefully allow him to stave off some problems while they were small and before they grew to be larger issues – something that too often felt like a luxury instead of being a mere good policy! As usual, many of the letters and missives could be generally ignored with a polite reply that he would look at whatever issue they raised and forget about them – what did he care about the annual arguments about standard thickness of cauldron bottoms? Every potioner worth their salt, much less alchemist would have their set custom made from better materials anyway!

Eventually, while searching through the piles of low-priority missives, Albus stumbled on a letter from the cat loving Arabella Fig, the Squib woman he made sure watched Harry just in case he was wrong about his relatives. So far, her annual reports told Dumbledore what he expected – while Harry wasn't really happy with his aunt and uncle there had been no reason for him to go visit and have a word or two with them. The way she wrote, Harry has been better than many she had herself grown with, something that made him dismiss any thoughts of meddling after consulting with the various devices he had monitoring the boy. He had been all right with no hint of magical threat, just like he was supposed to be – something that Hagrid confirmed after meeting with young Harry, not to mention his polite acceptance letter. That one had caused a bit of embarrassment – neither of them considered that even if Petunia actually explained all she knew about the magical world, she might not remember or indeed know in the first place how to send a post owl. Well, that oversight when contacting half-blood children was now fixed so there shouldn't be any more such incidents.

Still, it was odd that Arabella wrote outside of schedule – she hadn't done that in years, even since she got into the habit of sending Albus high priority mail about her cats' issues and he had to eventually write her back a pointed missive not to scare him about Harry's condition unless there really was any trouble with the boy. That happened shortly after the new Dark Lord began his rise and almost made him flame to Surrey when he saw the high-priority marked letter by the woman!

Hoping beyond hope that this wasn't about her cats condition, again, Albus warily opened the letter and scanned it. Then he froze in shock and quickly read it for a second time – Arabella had seen Harry leave early in the morning in an expensive car and rumour in the neighbourhood had it that he had been contacted by his father's relatives about some kind of tuition in preparation for going to an exclusive school.

This wasn't right! The only relatives the boy had he either lived with, were suspect or outright dark families! Without wasting any more time, Albus jumped and first checked the instruments – no change there, Harry was safe. For now anyway!

"Fawkes, to me!" The Phoenix jumped from his perch in surprise and clapped its beak in displeasure at being roused. "We need to go to Arabella Fig!" Dumbledore drew his wand and cast a few concealing spells over them both to ensure that no muggle would pay them much attention even if they flamed in front of them. Then he concentrated on the image where he wanted to go and pushed it through their familiar bond. While it was the height of rudeness to magically travel into another magical person's home without invitation, time was on the essence! Albus needed to know who had contacted Harry and what were their plans about the boy. He remembered his conversation with Alastor from a few days ago and paled. He shifted the image in his mind to Harry's home. "Fawkes, go!" Bright flame surrounded them both and with a flash they disappeared from Hogwarts only to appear in Surrey a short time later.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Privet Drive 4**

 **Surrey**

Bright flame formed at he back of the house, just under the umbrella of the inner defence perimeter. It expanded in a humanoid shape before vanishing to leave behind Dumbledore and the Phoenix perched on his shoulder. The blood enchantments recognized the one who cast them and his intentions and merely settled over him making sure he was very much aware of their presence and purpose.

The ancient wizard purposefully strode around the house trusting that his magic would keep him from curious eyes and began casting detection and diagnostic charms. So far there was no trace of foreign magic nor any sign that the protections had been tampered with in any way, shape or form. Nor could he find a sign that they had malfunctioned somehow, which was a small mercy. Someone with hostile intentions couldn't have taken Harry from this street, much less the house.

Dumbledore reached the front door and impatiently pressed the doorbell button and didn't let go of it until a displeased Petunia marched to the door and opened it. An angry and disdainful expression froze on her face when she saw him.

"Hello, Petunia. Where is Harry?" Albus wasted no time in pleasantries. When the woman paled at his question, Dumbledore knew something was terribly wrong and stared at her eyes brushing through her surface thoughts. He saw a familiar and unwelcome face in her mind, saw a flash of a cupboard under the stairs and for a third time in a decade is control failed him. Magic eagerly responded to his wrath and it was only the awareness of the protections pressing upon him in response that stopped him from doing something regrettable in a moment of passion. "You have no idea what you've done, do you?" Disappointment and loathing dripped from every word he spat. "You might have just doomed us all!"

As he spoke, he continued to examine Petunia's surface thoughts – it was all he dared do under the watchful eye of the protections.

 _Apprentice._ Magic seared that single word within his mind and he despaired. Harry Potter, abused, unwelcomed at home and now being groomed to walk with the Dark.

Albus rallied himself, gave Petunia a single look of so much contempt and loathing that if there was any justice in the world she would have melted in a pool of slime and Apparated towards the Ministry without sparing her a second glance. He could only hope that the parchment-work hadn't been properly filed in and accepted yet, in which case the corruption and nepotism that the place was infamous for could for once work for a good cause. Then he needed to talk with Moody, call in the old crowd and rethink all his plans and hopes for the future. This couldn't be allowed to stand! He appeared within the Ministry's atrium filled with so much righteous anger and purpose that it rivalled the state he found himself with when he saw with his two eyes the horrors committed in Grindelwald's name and by his old friends own hand in the name of the "greater good", a philosophy he once subscribed to too.

When people saw him, thee was no awe nor smiles this time. They didn't see the good natured if eccentric Headmaster coming for a visit, nor one of the Minister's trusted advisers. Instead, it was the mighty wizard who brought low Grindelwald himself, the one man Voldemort feared, who strode into the depths of the building that day. Magic crackled angrily within his long white hair and beard and due to his evident fury, no one dared bar his way.


	24. Chapter 8 Parts 6&7

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The road to Hogwarts**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **11 August 1991**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **London**

A Phoenix Patronus glided gracefully through the corridors of the Ministry flying past scurrying employees. It was an old truth that rumour could travel faster than any form of magical or mundane travel. Shortly after Dumbledore Apparated in the atrium, there was almost no one in the whole building who hadn't heard of his arrival and the state he was in. Naturally, the tale grew in the telling and soon whispers of a disaster, war or even a coup began filtering through the various departments. From the maintenance staff to the Department Heads, rumours flew in every direction, even as the Chief Warlock entered into the archives. He ignored the witch at the front desk – a Ravenclaw, who graduated a few years ago, raised the Elder Wand and waved it in a complicated manner before uttering two words. "Harry Potter." The wand's tip glowed bright blue before a visible wall of magic pulsed from it and passed through everything within the room before vanishing through the enchanted wall leading into the archive proper. A swipe had the door leading inside opened after a swipe of the wand and Albus marched in. He didn't need to see that every document mentioning Harry glowed in soft blue light. "To me." He ordered in Latin swished his wand and five bound parchments tore themselves from the charmed rafters cradling them. They flew until they were in front of Dumbledore floating in the air as if standing at attention. His eyes glanced at each other dismissing most of them – a birth certificate, a registration form confirming Harry as Heir Potter, a copy of the form confirming that he had enough magic to be considered a wizard and earn himself place in Hogwarts, a copy that his parents had paid for all seven years of tuition… and that should have been it. The next, larger and ornate Gringotts parchment shouldn't have been there.

Albus was an old man. Even as generally the Master/Apprentice relationship fell out of favour outside certain professions – like potion making, curse-breaking and item enchantment, he recognized the engraved parchment. It wasn't something that a boy not even attending a magical school should have ever came close to much less signed.

A swipe of the Elder Wand sent the other records back to their resting places. Albus took the offending parchment and carried it out to the stunned archivist. "As a Chief Warlock I need access to this document. Give me the necessary forms, Miss." Dumbledore ordered. His commanding tone broke the young lass from her stupor and she hurried to obey. While Albus knew what he would find inside, he needed to make sure anyway, to see it with his two eyes.

He was halfway through filling up the forms needed to lawfully read the Ministry copy of the document and for a moment he entertained the thought of destroying it, which he knew wasn't a good idea. If it was already in the archives, there would be at least two more copies in various other departments, not to mention the original at the Goblins along with the documents confirming that the Ministry had verified and accepted the documents. The last thing anyone needed at this moment was to drive Gringotts in Veil's and his Lord's waiting hands. He wasn't prepared to court even greater disaster after letting things go this far already.

Just as he was signing the forms – in triplicate, Amelia Bones arrived along with Alastor. With his magic unleashed and still dancing around him, he sensed them before he heard the clack of his friend's wooden leg. Dumbledore offered the archivist the signed forms, took the parchment and turned to face the new arrivals. "Amelia, we'll need to use your office."

"Albus, you already made enough of a show. It won't help much." Moody grumbled. "There are already rumours flying every which way that the world is ending.

The look Albus sent his friend made Alastor curse under his breath. "I think that your office might be for the best, Amelia." He agreed.

"Indeed?" The witch sent withering looks to both wizards before turning around and marching deeper into the ministry. "I'll want explanation, Albus, not your usual platitudes."

A few minutes later, they arrived at the DMLE after passing through corridors filled with gawking wizards and witches.

"Don't you have work to do?" Amelia barked at them as they passed and to their credit, many did indeed went back to work. Others, well there was advantage in figuring out what was happening and how to take advantage of it…

"Belinda, we're not to be disturbed." The Director ordered her secretary and once they were in her office, she pointed at the two chairs in front of her desk. "You two, sit." She snapped at them before unsheathing her wand and locking down the room and bringing up all privacy charms and enchantments protecting it. "You!" She pointed her wand at Dumbledore, "Apparate in flaunting your magic as if you have no care in the world, sent Patroni flying through the corridors and tear through the place as if you own it! It will be miracle if there isn't an emergency editions of the Prophet declaring the end of days with all that entails! Explain!"

"I've miscalculated gravely, Amelia." Albus admitted after reigning in his magic. He showed her the document and declaring his authority as Chief Warlock, he unsealed it. The parchment unrolled and Dumbledore scanned it fast. He would need to examine it in detail later, however from what he saw it was a standard contract covering a Master/Apprentice bond and it was all in order. That was a mixed blessing at best. He scrolled down to the end and saw the names of the bound pair – Dimitri Veil as the Master and Harry Potter as the Apprentice. He silently offered the parchment to Amelia – there was no doubt that Alastor used that eye of his to read the relevant section.

"Albus what did you do, or should I ask, what didn't you do?" Moody groaned.

"This looks familiar…" Bones muttered after taking the documents. Her eyebrows rose when she figured out the contents. "Why all the fuss about someone taking an apprentice…" She whispered before going to the bottom and reading the names for herself. "Harry Potter." She stated flatly. "The Boy-Who-Lived." Amelia continued. "The same boy you promised our whole world was well taken care of. How in Merlin's name did he end up as that man's Apprentice? There are investigations looking into his actions all over the continent!"

"And no one has been able to prove a thing. For Merlin's sake, he was able to lie under Veritaserum twice!" Alastor growled like an infuriated beast. "If he sinks his claws into the boy we won't know if he has gone dark until its too late!"

"Albus, I will have that explanation right now." Amelia put down the parchment, removed her trademark monocle and stared at the Chief Warlock.

Albus did explain no matter how hard it was to admit the depth of his failure in front of others.

"Albus right now, I'm tempted to curse off your bloody beard myself." Moody declared after he heard everything. "Is that all? Do you have any other boys or girls stashed somewhere they might turn Dark out of spite if nothing else? What were you thinking, damn you?"

"I was too busy trying to prevent the likes of Malfoy from taking over the government openly, making sure our government would help our world rebuild instead of being too busy becoming a spawning pool for Death Eaters and let's not forget, Europe has been steadily falling under the control of the third Dark Lord worth the tittle in my time!" Dumbledore snapped back. "Even with safe use of a time turner, there aren't enough hours in the day to get everything done!"

"What are we, Albus? Chopped liver? We could, should have been checking on the lad! You didn't need to try doing everything yourself as I've been telling you for years!" Moody snapped back.

"Enough! You can measure your wands or curse them off later, on your own time!" Bones thundered. "First thing first! I need Harry Potter's address. It is high time I go check up on our saviour. Second, I will do my best to arrange a meeting between us as concerned parties, the boy and his master." She spar the last word. "Harry Potter, Dark Wizard's Apprentice! When the reporters learn of it, the public is going to tear us apart!"

"No more than half. The others will be too busy either celebrating, re-evaluating their stance on the boy and the future or wondering why they didn't think of doing this and watching Veil carefully in case he gets away with it."

"Now he has a foothold on our shores, Dumbledore. His master too. It was one thing, no matter how unpleasant that Veil is so high profile in the muggle world! Many of our people wouldn't have given him the time of day anyway because of it. Now that he has so much influence over Potter? Just watch, he'll be on the invite list for all high profile functions once the news break. He and his master couldn't have found a better way to insert themselves with the power brokers of our society!"

"That donation to Saint Mungo sure helps as well." Moody added.

"What donation?" Albus warily asked. Why was this the first time he heard of it? He should have been informed! The last time the hospital received large donations it was at the end of the Blood War, when Malfoy and others bought themselves public acceptance by buying two new wings for the hospital! Ever since then, Albus had done his best to keep an eye to any and all meaningful charity gestures in magical Britain.

"Rumour has it that Veil will be donating a million galleons for expansion and modernization of Saint Mungo." Moody explained. It was all the talk around the building until you blasted your way in."

"It's not rumour. They will announce it tonight."

For Merlin's sake! Dumbledore felt like spitting nails.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 _Dimitri Veil, famous philanthropist or a Dark Lord in the making? Tonight, Saint Mungo announced that the infamous last member of the Noble House of Veil made a most generous donation – one million galleons, yes you read that right! Mr Veil donated a million galleons for modernization and expansion of our magical hospital!_

 _Is war coming to our shores again? Albus Dumbledore, Chief Warlock, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Supreme Mugwump marched in the ministry today unleashing frightening amount of magic and those who saw his face swear he was ready for battle! Does the Dark Lord wreaking havoc in Europe have designs upon our peaceful country?_

 _The Dark Lord – truth and myths! What do we really know about the Dark Lord who began his rise in Europe back in '86? He made his first public debut in a pub frequent by neer-do-wells, vampires, werewolves and dark wizards, slew four patrons, had one of our own – Ignatius Vance swear allegiance to him on the spot and vanished in the night. Few short days later, he broke into and assaulted a vampire nest killing most of the inhabitants with the darkest of magics, caused and explosion that threatened the Statute of Secrecy, abducted a powerful ancient vampire and effortlessly escaped from multiple Bulgarian Aurors who had just arrived on the scene…_

 _Who is Dimitri Veil? The scion of one of our Noble Houses, his first claim to fame was the infamous duel against Ilia Gorski, the late head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Gorski – a famous Bulgarian Pureblood family. The event took place few short months after his graduation from Drumstang and the magical might and previously unknown most Dark Magics he used against Mr Gorski gave credence to his claims that he was the Voice of his Lord – who we all now know to be the Dark Lord consolidating his control over the criminal world in Europe…_

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **11 August 1991**

 **Privet Drive 4**

 **Surrey**

Harry's latest lesson under cousin Andromeda ended on the usual sour note – she side-along Apparated him to the back of his relatives' house after casting the usual privacy spells to avoid detection from the neighbours. She had to steady him with a hand on the shoulder and he wondered if he would ever get the hand of landing properly. At least tonight he didn't feel like hurling the dinner they ate before Apparating. The House Elves – ugly, excitable and very useful buggers were actually very good cooks, better than him he had to admit with more than a hint of jealosity. Not that his feelings about their advantage cooking-wise was enough to stop him from eating a hearty meal. He had many breakfasts, lunches and dinners to make up for and with his training regiment, there was no danger of becoming as wide as Dudley or worse, his uncle.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Andromeda asked.

"I'll live. When will be our next lesson?" He asked. Every time they met, his cousin told him stories about his family besides everything else she taught him but only if he had been diligent enough, which gave him the best possible motivation to pay close attention to everything Andromeda told him.

"I'll get back to you over the next couple of days, Harry."

The boy grinned at that and turned to look at his former prison. He could almost feel the magic of the protections in the air tonight – probably because the morning's training with his Master was aimed at honing his senses – natural, magical and through the Force. He took a deep breath of the damp evening air closed his eyes and concentrated. There was a sense of something all over him, though it was just beyond reach – more like a ghost than a real sensation. What he could actually feel however was fear and apprehension coming from the house, anger too and those emotions had to be very strong indeed for him to perceive them. Harry knew for a fact that so far his empathic sense sucked as his Master so eloquently put it just before lunch.

"Harry, why didn't you tell us you are tired enough to go spacing on me?" Andromeda asked worriedly.

"It's not that." He frowned. "I can sense a great amount of fear and anger from the house, it has to be for me to get anything."

His cousin frowned. "Stay behind me. Do you have your emergency Portkey?"

Harry nodded.

"Good. If something happens, if you sense danger, I want you to activate it, am I clear?" His cousin asked.

Harry nodded again. He wasn't about to argue when her whole bearing changed and she suddenly radiated danger. In a blink of an eye, her want was in her hand and she walked towards the front of the house. If it wasn't for the protections, a few spells might have been able to tell them a lot, yet thanks to them, whatever was wrong it shouldn't be too much of a danger, right? Harry followed drawing his own wand for all the good it was going to do – while he had learned a handful useful hexes, charms and curses, he wasn't at all sure he was up to facing anyone who knew what they were doing and going at him seriously.

There was no shouting coming from the house, the place was well lit and as they walked past the kitchen, they could see that its door and windows were open and could hear quiet voices coming from inside – too low to make anything from them.

The front of the house was just like Harry saw it last that morning – so nothing out of the ordinary. He got his keys, got a nod from Andromeda, unlocked the door and stepped aside leaving her to make the entrance. Whoever was inside – hopefully just his relatives, got silent when they heard the door opening.

"Alastor Moody." Andromeda proclaimed loud enough for Harry to hear. "What are you doing here you old nundu?

"I should ask you the same question, Mrs Tonks." An unfamiliar woman said.

"Put that wand down, girlie or you'll regret it." A gruff male voice ordered.

"You first, Auror, unless you have a warrant."

" _Master, we've got trouble over here!"_

" _I'll disentangle myself from the crowd at the hospital and Apparate there momentarily. Keep your head and be careful. It seems that the game is up."_

Harry cursed in his head and for a change there was no sense of amusement coming from his Master at said antics.

"We're merely here to meet with Mr Potter and make certain that he is all right now that he is rejoined our world." The unknown woman said. "I don't like to repeat myself, Mrs Tonks, why are you here?"

"Why, I'm here escorting my cousin as Moody no doubt saw with that eye of his." Andromeda answered as if it was the most natural thing in the world, which granted it should have been. If there weren't political complications as his Master would put it.

Then it dawned to harry what his cousin meant about the eye - that rumour his Master heard of Alastor Moody having an X-Ray eye was true! Cool! Harry wanted one!

"Mr Potter, may we have a word?" The still unknown woman asked aloud. Harry dared to peer around the open door and looked past Andromeda's stiff back. She had fallen into a duelling stance leaning forward to make herself a smaller target. He could see through the corridor right into the living room where a scarred hunched man had his own wand drawn and pointing it at his cousin. This had to be Moody – the artificial eye kinda gave him up. Beside him stood an old woman wearing a sensible business suit and a monocle. She had her empty hands spread in front of her in a placating gesture.

"I believe that it is safe to talk, Harry. As long as Dumbledore hasn't altered the protections."

"Why would he do that, lassie?" Moody grumbled.

"Possibly for the same reason you deigned to come here today." Andromeda shot back.

"We're here merely to ask a few questions, see if Mr Potter is all right and offer an invitation for a meeting." The old woman explained. "I'm Director Amelia Bones from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It's nice to meet you, Mr Potter."


	25. Chapter 8 Parts 8&9

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: The road to Hogwarts**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 8**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **11 August 1991**

 **Privet Drive 4**

 **Surrey**

This day… Amelia Bones felt the need to curse something, preferably a particular someone for creating this utter mess. A rising headache that began just behind her eyes wasn't helping nor did what her chat with the Dursleys, which most certainly wasn't an interrogation, implied, about them, about Harry Potter and most damningly, about one Albus the one-of-too-many-titles-and-jobs Dumbledore.

The icon and saviour of their world – treated like a House Elf of the particularly unfortunate variety, abused and now an Apprentice to a Dark Wizard, on her watch no less. To make her day even better, said boy-wizard just arrived in the company of the other formerly Black witch, Andromeda Tonks. The implications of the Blacks being back into the game and working for with someone like Veil and by implication, his Master, Merlin, this was as if the years that led to the Blood War had come again!

Unsurprisingly, Potter didn't feel like cooperating. He sat as far away from her and Moody as he could under the protection of the middle Black sister and if that wasn't a slap in the face and a monument of how much the magical world failed that boy, Amelia didn't know what it would be.

Moody wasn't helping matters with his constant glowering and attempts to appear threatening. Tonks wasn't phased by his bluster and the boy was content to stare sullenly at the wall behind them. He was careful not to meet their eyes too and Amelia was sure it wasn't because he was afraid nor shy.

"You'll have to send a missive to Mr Veil if you want him to be present. As you are no doubt aware, it is most improper to discuss an Apprentice's relationship with their Master without the latter being present." Andromeda Tonks explained calmly. If she felt any satisfaction at stonewalling them, nothing of it showed through her perfect Pureblood facade.

"As if he knows anything about that…" Moody grumbled. It was times like these that made Amelia unsure if the man was merely difficult for the sake of it or if he really needed to retire and not because of all the pieces he had lost over the years. It was a moot point anyway; with a new Dark Lord on the rise, the Aurors needed all the help they could get.

"Oh, I can be as proper as I want to." A new voice carried throughout the house. Black mist popped into existence behind Potter and Tonks and just like that, Dimitri Veil stood there, wearing a very expensive Acromantula silk robe. In the blink of an eye, Moody was on his feet drawing his wand. However, before he could point it at Veil, the man had raised his arm and the tool flew out of Alastor's grasp to land in the man's open palm.

"That's quite enough!" The Dark Wizard ordered in power laden voice.

It took all of Amelia's discipline not to follow the example of her colleague who gave out a gasp yet never ceased moving. A lesser wizard would have been left defenceless without their wand, Moody produced a second one and hissed the beginning of a spell when chains of golden light materialized from thin air and bound him tight. A moment later he fell back on the couch with a furious Andromeda Tonks pointing her wand between his eyes. The witch had surged to her feet and stepped in front of Harry when the altercation began.

"Madam Bones, do keep your attack dog on a leash. He might poke someone's eye with those sticks of his." Veil warned calmly as if Moody and his aborted attack were of no consequence.

Did he put that much trust in the defences around the house, did he bluff or most concerning, did he really consider Alastor Moody as not enough of a threat to be concerned about?

"Well, we might have that meeting in here. I'm sure that after this most concerning display from your Auror, Albus Dumbledore will be running here. I'll let you explain how the DMLE's finest just endangered my Apprentice and his relatives." There was the tiniest hint of amusement that Veil displayed – his lips quirked up a fraction and if it wasn't for her enchanted monocle, Amelia wouldn't have seen it.

This day could only get worse, she was sure of it.

"So pray tell, Madam Bones, how the DMLE will attempt to harass me and mine today? More baseless accusations? More investigations based on rumour and hearsay? Perhaps a Veritaserum interrogation? Third time is the charm after all." Veil spoke in a calm, deliberate and infuriatingly reasonable tone.

"We merely have questions and concerns, Mr Veil. This," Amelia carefully and slowly waved a hand as not to be perceived as a threat either by the Dark Wizard or the protections over the house, which had to be on high alert for even a hint of danger aimed at the residents or their general vicinity.

" Andromeda, you can stand down. Both you and Harry are perfectly safe." Tonks nodded stiffly, sent a deadly glare at Moody and sat beside Harry, though she didn't put her wand away even if she no longer aimed it at Alastor. "You people always have questions, yet the truth doesn't seem to satisfy you." Veil shook his head sadly just as Moody let out a disgruntled curse from under the glowing chains.

"By all accounts, you're a competent Auror, Madam Bones. You've spoken with the Dursleys for some time tonight and I'm sure you've reached the right conclusions. If not, before you leave you should check the cupboard under the stairs – until May, that was my Apprentice's room ever since he was dropped at the front door by the just and mighty Albus Dumbledore. Speak of the devil..."

A blinding flash of light, a wave of warmth reminiscent of a mother's embrace and Albus Dumbledore landed between Amelia and the Dursleys, wand in hand and magic rolling off him in tidal waves.

"Chief Warlock, seeing that you and the Director of the DMLE are so conveniently here, I want to lodge in a complain. One of your people, Alastor Moody drew a wand in the presence of my young Apprentice, in said Apprentice's own home no less and put him and his relatives in danger." Veil calmly explained and pointedly ignored the angry sorcerer pointing a wand at his chest.

At this rate, the day was going to slide from a mere catastrophe into an unmitigated disaster. Amelia's headache spiked and she lamented not taking a second pepper up potion before coming here. "Albus, stand down before this escalates beyond any reason."

"After he tried to curse you?!" Dumbledore chanced an incredulous glance her way.

"The only one who attempted to curse someone was Moody and he is properly bound by the protections you put on this house." Amelia pointed out the obvious. Only now did Albus take a good look at his old friend and his bound state. He at least had the good grace to look sheepish, though his wand didn't waver.

"What is going to be, Chief Warlock? Will you curse me in order to keep me away from my Apprentice? Or perhaps now that you are here, you can explain to Harry why did you abandon him to a decade of hell?" There was no taunt in those words, no glee at getting one over Albus Dumbledore of all people, only grim determination.

Potter no longer stared at the wall behind them, nor he showed any sign that he was scared or even surprised at the confrontation. What took aback Amelia was the glare he was sending Dumbledore – it was one of a pure and undiluted loathing.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 9**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **11 August 1991**

 **Privet Drive 4**

 **Surrey**

And just like that, Dumbledore's anger withered. He looked Harry in the eyes, sighed and lowered his wand. "Mistakes were made, Harry." The Chief Warlock admitted. "Grave mistakes. While I didn't expect that Petunia would love you as you were her own son, what she did I..." He clamped his mouth shut and sent another glare to the woman who was petrified with terror. "The only reasons I'm not personally dragging them to court right now as they justly deserve is that the protections keeping you safe from hostile magic are bound to your aunt's blood and the fact that they're behaving themselves now. Without these protections, in a short order you would be hunted by the remained followers of Voldemort and any and all enemies your… Master and his own had made over the past half decade."

"My Master can protect me!" Harry snapped.

"When you are by his side? I'll allow that. I've seen his duel with Gorski. Can he be there all the time, every day? From what I know, your Master is almost as busy spread between the muggle and magical worlds as I am dealing with my various responsibilities and then there is what his own Lord might require of him. Of you."

"This is a reasonable concern." Veil allowed to everyone's surprise. His lips quircked up again. "There is a reason why we haven't yet filled all the evidence of negligence and abuse we have against the Dursleys in either the magical or mundane worlds. We might even restrain ourselves from doing so if they continue to behave until Harry is of age to leave the house and has been trained to handle himself."

"If they mistreat my cousin ever again, everything they did becomes public. In that case it will be a race to see who will get them first." Andromeda added without bothering to acknowledge that the muggles were still in the room, listening. From her tone it was clear that she would love nothing more than to be the one to get them. At that moment, she looked so much like a saner Bellatrix that it sent shivers down Amelia's spine. The last thing their world needed was that woman's second coming.

No one missed how Harry beamed at that declaration.

"It won't make any difference if I ask you if you want to be this man's Apprentice, would you, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

All he got back was an angry glare in response.

"I didn't think so, not after what I allowed to happen to you on my watch." The Chief Warlock sighed. "This still leaves at an impasse. I've seen three Dark Lords rise in my time. I won't stand aside and allow two more to ravage our world."

"It is for my Apprentice to decide who and what he desires to be – a hero, a normal wizard, a Dark Lord. One day he will have all the knowledge and power to make an educated choice of his own." Veil explained.

"Will he, really? Dark Magic, the Dark Arts – they are seductive and addictive. Prolonged use warps a person's mind. They're forbidden for a reason." Dumbledore explained.

"Is that so? In this country alone there are many wizards and witches who don't subscribe to your belief, Chief Warlock. Dark Wizards and Witches who aren't mad nor evil… unless you classify everything you disagree with as evil." Veil countered.

"Many of them openly or covertly supported Voldemort and his agenda. Everything that man did, everything he touched was either terrible or corrupted. Many of them avoided justice, yet you would throw your lot with them?"

"They're criminals, are they? Just like I am supposed to be, yet there hasn't been a shred of evidence that a just court would take seriously." There was no trace of amusement in Veil's response, only disdain.

"In view of your involvement, Mr Veil and the attention your Lord obvious has placed on Harry, he must be better protected, both here and at school." Dumbledore continued without missing a beat.

"The kind of protections that would prevent me or Mrs Tonks from coming anywhere this house? Protections that might keep my Apprentice a prisoner in here when not at your school? Chief Warlock, you're overstepping your bounds."

"That is not for you to decide, Mr Veil. If I have to, I will bring your influence over Harry in front of the Wizengamot. Further, if you really have evidence that Harry has been abused by his relatives and withheld it, it can be constituted as an obstruction of justice and as a sign you approved of what was done to the boy."

"That's rich coming from you, the man most responsible for what happened to my Apprentice. The same man who all but told us he'll keep Harry here as a prisoner!"

"I am at fault and I will bear the responsibility until my dying breath. Nevertheless, I won't let you take advantage of my mistakes to twist Harry into something his own parents wouldn't recognize and loathe! I won't let you turn him into the same kind of evil they died protecting him from!"

"As I said, Chief Warlock Dumbledore, all I intend to do is teach him what I know. What my Apprentice decides to do with said knowledge and power, what kind of man he chooses to be one day, that would be up to him. All I'm seeing is your attempts to push him further in my hand so by all means, go ahead. We'll gleefully meet you in court." Veil glanced at Alastor. "Him too, Harry's solicitor would be eager to tear apart the Auror who endangered his wife for no good reason."

"This is getting out of hand." Amelia muttered. "Albus, that's quite enough of you. We aren't under Mr Potter's roof to start a fight, legal or otherwise. While I do disagree with the way the Chief Warlock put it, the general sentiment he is pushing forward is sound. Mr Veil, lack of evidence or not, you are a known Dark Wizard. We all know that you are acting as the public face of your Lord, the only question is if you are good and lucky enough to avoid leaving proof behind any nefarious deeds or if you are doing your best to keep your nose clean in order to publicly and legally push forward your Lord's agenda."

"You believe so, Madam Director. In other words, you are assuming." The amused hint of a smile was back on Veil's face. "I am a Dark Wizard and so I must be doing wicked and terrible things in the deep of night. Its understandable, after so many suspected Death Eaters got away scot free claiming being Imperiused. Yet, that's just it. You don't know if I've done anything illegal, you don't know if they had done so as well. You believe that is the case, you suspect it, however you do not know. You know, if there were laws against libel in the magical world, my lawyers would be having field day tearing strips from Auror Departments and Ministries all across Europe."

"I don't believe that we'll achieve anything else at this meeting. Mr Potter, Mr Veil, I'm offering you an invitation for a meeting at the Ministry next Monday morning. We all need to cool down before someone does something we all will regret."

"That's acceptable on my part. What do you think, Apprentice?" Veil asked.

"Why should we go? They will try to keep me here, perhaps shove me back in my cupboard for not being obedient little freak." Harry glowered. "Master, look me in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong! None of them cares what I want nor what is best for me! All they care about is what they want from me!"

"From what I've seen, I'm inclined to agree, Apprentice. However, you'll have to deal with this kind of people often in your life. Consider this an opportunity to learn and see for yourself how our esteemed Ministry works, or doesn't work."

"As you wish, my Master."

Yes, this day was truly an unmitigated disaster.


	26. Chapter 9 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Hogwarts – new friends, enemies, rivals and sortings**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **11 August 1991**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **UK**

The only silver lining Amelia could find amongst all the debacles of the day was that they avoided an open fighting. She purposely led the two wizards into her office, sealed it tight and went to her emergency stash. The first thing she did was to drain a pepper up potion, then another one to make her pounding headache go away before taking a sealed bottle of firewhisky – the good stuff and three glasses.

"Wizards." She glared at the two me. "Why is always so hard to keep you men out of trouble and alive?" At least Dumbledore had the grace to look embarrassed, while Alastor merely glowered at everyone and everything. He didn't take lightly being disarmed so casually, much less being informed that there will be charges filed against him. To top it all, Veil handed said wand to Mr Potter and let the boy decide if it should be returned or snapped on the spot for being raised under Harry's roof and thus endangering everyone in the house. While the lad did return it, eventually, it was obvious to everyone that he did strongly consider snapping it.

He would have been in his right too, especially where any believing in the older traditions was concerned.

"You two will be silent and listen." Amelia fumed. "You already caused enough disasters already." She poured herself a hefty dose of firewhisky and too a mouthful. The burning liquid went smoothly down her throat and made her relax a fraction. Merlin, this cursed day…

For courtesy sake if nothing else, she poured a couple of fingers of smouldering alcohol to her guests, sat in her chair and peered at them as if they were some strange magical creatures, like those the Quibber often wrote about.

"You two know better than most the state of our world, of the Ministry and most importantly, of my Aurors! We still haven't recovered from the war and the cut budget that you Chief Warlock fuelled into rebuilding. Even with Bagnold in her last days and now Fudge finally pulling their heads of their behinds, it will be years before we are in any way ready to fight a major insurrection, much less a war. Yet, both of you almost started one tonight! Veil's Master has an army of assorted Dark Creatures on the continent and at best, the Bulgarian Ministry would merely offer them a safe base of operations, place to train, not to mention what a friendly country could do for them even if they aren't openly supporting them – all things that Voldemort lacked! I don't know if it was arrogance on Veil's part, miscalculation, because he has never crossed wands with you, Dumbledore, or worse if he is that confident and with a good reason that he can go spell for spell with you. He wasn't concerned by me, neither by Moody and Voldemort himself considered us threat enough to want to handle personally. Yet the two of you were ready to fight him then and there, under the houses protections, when a loss would have been a complete disaster for our world and even if you won, you would have declared an open war on the Dark Lord in Europe! A war we are in no position to fight today, much less win!" It was very hard for Amelia to keep her voice down to an angry growl instead of shouting like madwoman at the two fools.

Bloody wizards! She took a few deep breaths to calm herself, clamped on her Occlumency for help and took another mouthful of firewhisky for a good measure.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, however Amelia didn't allow him to utter a word. "I am not finished, Chief Warlock. You will listen to me. I do not care what plans you had for Harry Potter." She uttered slowly and precisely so there would be no chance either of the two old fools could misinterpret what she was trying to drill into their thick skulls.

"We fucked up like green recruits, is that you want to hear, lass?" Moody admitted.

"Oh, I haven't yet started with you. Moody, you can consider yourself off the active roster. You'll be visiting a proper Mind-Healer to get over your issues and see if we can do something about your questionable judgement. Your primary job for the time being is shaping up both the new recruits and our current crop of Aurors." Amelia declared. When Alastor opened his mouth to protest, she raised a hand and glared murderously at him. "I won't be denied in this. You should have known better, hell I know that you know better. We've let your paranoia run unchecked and if Veil wanted to, you gave him all the justification he would have needed to put you down and likely get away with it because he was defending not only himself but his young Apprentice."

Moody's mouth clamped shut, he glowered one last time before nodding stiffly and taking the glass of firewhisky in front of him. He proceeded to drink it all in one go before visibly relaxing a fraction. It was clear to Amelia that he was pondering what she just told him.

"Now, you, Albus. What am I going to do with you? You know that I should be getting you up on charges for negligence at the very least, right? I'm sure that both Harry and Veil has a case ready to be filled against you for everything that poor boy has suffered in that house and they will gleefully do it if you bring them to court over a very proper and legal Master/Apprentice bond."

Albus made to speak, however thought better of it and he too took the offered drink.

"As I said, whatever plans you had for Potter are dead. It is clear to me that he won't be the icon of light and all that is good in the world that most of our society believes him to be and we'll have to take that hit, soon. It's going to be an utter mess too. Albus, you're going to accept responsibility for it. Not only its your own fault, but we need all the good publicity and support we can get to prepare, because make no mistake, sooner or later we'll clash with Veil's master and not just politically. However, that is something we need to delay for at least a few years, half a decade or more would be for the best. We need time to recover, time to train our Aurors, to clean up the Ministry of people who Veil could simply buy. We also need international allies who will fight with us, because barring a miracle, the Dark Lord won't be forever content to play nice and low-key. Magical Britain won't fall on my watch, Dumbledore." Amelia drained her glass and let out a long suffered sigh. "It's not all bad however. By all accounts, Harry will be coming to Hogwarts and if we are all lucky he will spend the next seven years attending. This is an opportunity, Albus. While after I saw tonight I don't believe he would want to have much to do with you or the Progressive faction you lead, he is still a young boy. You need to make amends, to prove to him that you are sorry, that you genuinely regret what happened to him. You and your staff need to gently show him that he doesn't necessary have to follow a dark path. If we can influence him in becoming a Grey Wizard instead, he might one day break up with his Master and face Veil and his Lord when they come knocking as we all know they eventually will."

Dumbledore looked all his years as he listened to Amelia's tirade. "You might be right." He admitted. "I'll put out feelers towards the League, speak with my contacts in it. Some of their children are either already in Hogwarts or will be starting this year. If they can befriend him, if they can show him that there is more to our world than being Dark…"

"You do that, Albus. It might even work."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **15 August 1991**

 **Veil's residence**

 **unplottable location**

"As councils of war go, this is on the anaemic side." Their host said in an amused tone.

Nymphadora Tonks, a proud Hufflepuff, Metamorphmagus, hopefully a future Auror and very confused, stared at the man at whose house her parents dragged her to without explanation. She looked at him – Dimitri Veil, the same person the Prophet was getting crazy about over the past week then to her little cousin Harry and back before turning to stare at her parents. They weren't alone either – at least a third of her father's colleagues were with them siting around the large round table at the back of the house along with two complete strangers. One of those was tall blond haired man who carried a vague resemblance to that cute muggle actor Brad Pitt. His muscles, blue eyes and long blond hair made him very yummy and they filled up very well his practically cut duelling robes.

The other one was even taller, yet lean and so pale that if it wasn't nearing noon on a cloudless day, she would have believed him a vampire. He wore an expensive velvet suit that had been the height of fashion a century or so ago, which only reinforced the impression.

"I believe introductions are in order. I am Dimitri Veil, for those who care about such things, Head of the Noble House of Veil."

A few amused chuckles came from around the table – he and Harry were the two people there who didn't need introductions, unless you had spent the last few years under a rock.

"This," Veil waved a hand at the blond… down girl, Tonks told herself, "Is Colonel Ulfric Yorgensen."

"Hello." The man greeted with a deep rumbling noise that sent shivers of excitement up and down Tonks' spine and a disarming smile that made her legs weak. Damn hormones! She was eighteen for Morgana's sake!

"Nymphadora..." Her mother hissed at her.

"Sorry?" She asked confused. Did her hair and face go pink? Sure they did, damn ability for betraying her…

Veil continued on as if he has seen nothing, something she was immensely glad for, yet her cousin was staring at her with… was that an awe?

"And this is Marcus Fargrove – the leader of my legal team in the magical world." Veil introduced the vampire, who was most certainly either a vampire who had found a way to be in the sun at noon or their kind's fanboy because when he smiled and waved at them she clearly saw the gleam of sharp fangs in his mouth. "Any questions before we begin?"

Tonks raised a hand. "Uh, yeah. Wotcher guys! Why am I here?"

"Events from this past Sunday might have a negative effect on your career in the Aurors, Ms Tonks. I think it best that your parents explain before we continue." Veil said making her even more confused and decidedly wary.

"Mum, dad?" Tonks turned to look at said parents.

"For a few months now, me and my colleagues have been working for Mr Potter here." Her father nodded at their little cousin.

"And I've been teaching him all about the customs and culture of our world."

"Ah, that's what your new hush-hush job have been." Tonks nodded. "Why did you need to keep that quiet and no offence meant but why is Harry here? Why did he need you to teach him that as well?" That made no sense! Why were they sitting calmly at the table and in he home of a known Dark Wizard as if it was the most natural thing in the world? Granted, Tonks was raised to know better than to consider them all evil but that awareness was the intellectual kind. She hadn't really met any Dark Witch or Wizard besides mum unless passing them by in Diagon counted… Besides it didn't help that at school being from a Dark Family was a rather nasty stigma among many of the students. It didn't help that the darker ones all tended to gather in Slytherin…

"Apprentice, I'm sure you can answer that." Veil gave her an amused half-smile.

"As Mr Jorgensen puts it, certain parties decided that until my Master rescued me, I should get he mushroom treatment. They kept me in the dark, treated me as a House Elf and fed me s..." Harry cut off his angry tirade. A glance convinced Tonks that her mother had it – the look she sent their cousin was enough to make her hair flash white for a moment before returning to her current favourite purple. That was her mum in her full Black mode. "Sorry, Mrs Black!"

Harry Potter mistreated? What? Did she fall in the twilight zone or something?

"Said parties, including your future boss at the DMLE if they would still have you, Ms Tonks, finally figured out the bond between my Apprentice and me." Mr Veil continued. "They are aware that your mother is in contact with Harry here and teaching him both about our culture and his family as well as that your father and his colleagues are his solicitors. Further, as of yesterday, your father has filled in charges against one Alastor Moody and the DMLE for endangering both my Apprentice, your mother and Harry's muggle relatives. Considering who your mother's relatives are and recent developments, that man was the most likely to be your Auror mentor."

The Blacks – it all always came back to them, didn't it? It didn't matter that they threw mum out of the family! People still suspected and mistrusted them all because of it. Now, what was that about Alastor Moody endangering her mother?! At the very idea, Tonk's hair went fiery red showing her anger for all to see.

"Oh, my. That's rather inconvenient." Veil announced. "Miss Tonks, now that you know the basics, you can interrogate your parents after we're done here. I am sure they will tell you what they can. First we'll discuss the legal measures, then protection and contingencies in case Dumbledore and company decided that the time to play by the rules is over."

"That's why my people are here." Jorgensen rumbled. "I have a platoon of operatives trained and experienced as bodyguards ready to deploy with two strike teams ready to act as Quick Reaction Force. All are familiar with the magical world and about half of them are wizards or witches proficient in combat magic."

Tonk's head snapped right to look at her mother. What did her family got entangled with? Were all those rumours about Veil true? Were her parents sworn to follow a Dark Lord? What did that meant for her?! She wanted to be Auror in no small part to prove that she was nothing like the Blacks that people feared and hated!

"We'll explain, Nymphadora. What really concerns you in the short term is that the Aurors might either deem you unsuitable given who we're working with or worse, decide to use you to gather information on us, Mr Veil and our cousin, Harry." Mum explained.

"Well, if that happens, I'm sure my security division can offer a lucrative contract and training in combat, investigation, field medicine, etc… Ms Tonks. I've read your file and we can use someone with your talents." Jorgensen said.

Tonks frowned at the man. Even if he was amongst the yummiest she had seen, especially with all that muscle, she had had enough of people wanting her for her Metamorph abilities! She was no one's sex toy!

"Ulfric, me thinks you should have chosen your words with more care." Veil chided. He nevertheless continued to look amused at the situation. "You two can go on to try hex each other later if you so desire, once Ms Tonks decides if she wants to curse your balls off or jump you."

"The only place Nymphadora is going is home so we can have a talk." Mum declared, still channelling whatever that was that made her appear all scary.

"Your daughter, Mrs Black, you can deal with her." Veil shrugged. "Now back to the topic at hand. How do we stand on contingencies if Dumbledore and company try to challenge my bond with my Apprentice or at least try to keep us from meeting each other?"

"First," Dad began, not giving any sign that he was bothered by what just happened, "We have all our ducks in order and are ready to file in multiple cases against Dumbledore for allowing Mr Potter be abused. Second, we're ready to challenge on multiple points any attempt to legally forbid you from meeting and training your Apprentice, Mr Veil. Third, we've prepared for a series of press-conferences to both reveal your status and stir up the traditional families against what they'll see as another excess and overreach by the Progressives..."

What did her family got entangle with? They were ready to go against Dumbledore?! Were all those nasty rumours that her mother was disinherited from the Black just so the family would be safe in case He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named lost with mum onboard with it? Tonks looked at her mum who just gave her a look that said she would explain latter.

As the meeting proceeded, Tonks had the feeling that the world was just yanked from under her feet and she wasn't sure what to think or believe in any more...


	27. Chapter 9 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Hogwarts – new friends, enemies, rivals and sortings**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **15 August 1991**

 **Tonk's residence**

 **UK**

The Tonks family returned home that evening with a dazed daughter in tow. A change of clothes and freshening up later, they gathered around the kitchen table with cups of steaming hot tea and a bit of good old muggle whisky as pick me up for the conversation in front of them.

"Did I get hit with a Confudus charm or something?" Tonks mumbled.

"Not that I know, dear. You have questions, go ahead and ask." Mum gently prompted her.

"Fine. What the hell, parents?"

Mum nodded at dad who sipped his tea with a bemused expression on his face before becoming all business like. "Dora, you don't refuse an offer to become the solicitor to the heir and last member of an old family like the Potters. They might not be one of the Sacred Twenty Eight, however the name still has weight in our world and not just because the Dark Lord blew himself up trying to kill your cousin. Refusing would have been a career suicide and after I figured out what my first order of business would be, well there was no way to let the lad deal alone with a Dark Wizard of Veil's calibre – your mother would have hexed me something fierce."

Mum nodded sagely. "Good boy." She smirked at dad before turning her attention to Tonks. "Naturally, I couldn't refuse to meet Harry once the offer has been made. I hoped that he would make one anyway once he turned eleven and returned to our world," and just like that mum's bearing became that of a frozen statue radiating chill – the same way she always got when someone mentioned crazy Aunt Bellatrix in her presence. "Imagine my surprise," Tonks was sure that the temperature in the room suddenly plunged straight towards subzero at her mother's tone, "when I learned that until recently, Harry didn't know that he was a wizard, much less about our world. Or us." The last sentence came as a hiss that made her wonder if Mum was actually a Parseltongue and hid it until now. "We might not have met him until he graduated and by then, I don't believe that he would have had any affection left for a distant family that did nothing about the way he was treated at that house."

"He didn't make things sound worse than they were?" Tonks asked in a small voice.

"I've seen his memories of that place during Occlumency training. His room was a small dusty cupboard under the stairs. Aunt Dora's grand nephew had a pair of spiders as his first and perhaps only friends this summer." And that was perhaps a trace of the infamous Black madness that shone in mum's eyes right now. Merlin's balls…

"It was terrible, I get it. Those people should be in prison, perhaps even for a stint in Azkaban. It doesn't exactly explain why we're apparently having lunches and dinners with a Dark Lord's right hand." Tonks inquired.

"Nymphadora, I've taught you better than this." Mum gave her a disappointed look. "You don't dismiss a Dark Lord's offer lightly. Do you really think that it was a coincidence that your father got contacted first to be Harry's solicitor by his Master? Do you think that he doesn't know who we are, who you are related on my side of the family? Once upon a time I might have risked it, if it was just me, if I had the backing of House Black. Today, especially now that we've seen Dumbledore's true face? We stand alone and thus vulnerable." Mum grimaced. "Harry is family, he's all but certain to walk alongside this new Dark Lord. From what I've seen, from what has been hinted to me, Veil very well might be his Master's successor and one day, Harry will be his. That puts us in a pre-cautious position. Within the week it will be public knowledge that Harry is Veil's Apprentice. People already know that Ted is your cousin's leading solicitor, and as far as the public at large is concerned, they will soon conclude that we've chosen a side."

"When it was all but done for us." Tonks grumbled.

"It's not all bad, Nymphadora. I've spoken with Veil, we both have." Mum nodded at dad. "He isn't of Voldemort's ilk, he doesn't care about blood purity and such tripes. And he is offering both opportunities and protection."

"Status, a place back at the top of ours society, respect – something you've always regretted losing." Tonks finished for her mother.

"Don't get me wrong, I would never trade either of you for such things, nor do I enjoy all the fake pleasantries and lies that come with it, however I do miss a lot of the benefits that came with being a Black. There was time, Nymphadora, before Voldemort's rise, when no one would have dared touch anyone wearing the name Black. We were safe, protected. Now? We got lucky that the new Dark Lord isn't like Voldemort or that monster didn't find some way to crawl back from the grave."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **17 August 1991**

 **Director Bone's office**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **UK**

The week was already gleefully going from bad to worse and she dreaded what would happen on Monday when they were to meet with Veil and Potter. Rumours already flew about something being wrong with their saviour and when the announcement came that Potter would be making a short statement tonight through his solicitor, well all hell didn't quite broke loose. That was scheduled for tonight, when everyone would learn their saviour's new status. It was a small mercy that the secret hadn't leaked yet, because there were damn accurate rumours racing through the Ministry about it. That by itself caused enough trouble and pressure from the Minister and DoM for both more information and some kind of action, in the former case, in order for the Ministry to be seen doing something. It didn't help that this morning Harry was seen at Gringotts in the company of Andromeda Tonks – they were no longer making any effort hiding. That was at least in part how she got in the latest mess – there was a deluge of memos, reports and notes warning about a possible infiltration of her Department by the Blacks of all people.

"Nymphadora Tonks." Amelia grimaced at the name. She would never know what the lass' mother thought giving that particular name to a full Metamorphmagus girl. Her file painted the picture of a promising young witch, who was a bit impulsive and clumsy – the latter could be written off with her still getting used to and exploring her special ability. Top grades from Hogwarts, passed the preliminary Auror exams with a distinction and slotted in the top percentile of promising future Aurors with recommendation to be assigned one of the best as tutor if she proved mentally suited for the job.

This was the kind of witch the Department sorely needed and now, Amelia had to decide if she should let her go gently in an attempt not to make an enemy and for sure drive her in the enemy camp or try to subvert her. Merlin and Morgana damned Dark Lords and senile Chief Warlocks! She thought about Bellatrix Lestrange and her sisters, thought about what Andromeda Tonks might do if she ever suspected of the DMLE trying to use her only child against her family and cursed. The last thing they needed was Bellatrix's second coming.

"Belinda, call cadet Nymphadora Tonks to my office. She should be in the building." Amelia called her secretary and once she got an acknowledgement from the younger witch, cursed Dumbledore again.

A few minutes later and a bit of routine paperwork going into her out box, Amelia got the call that Tonks had arrived.

"Belinda, let her in and make sure we aren't interrupted." Bones ordered.

Tonks walked into the office wearing the standard brown robes assigned for cadets who were still undergoing testing and stood at a passable imitation of attention. "Madam Director, you called for me?"

"I did, Cadet Tonks. Are you aware of your family's proclivities over the past few months?"

"Their work relationship with Harry Potter and Dimitri Veil? I was made aware of it a few days ago."

Amelia couldn't sense any trace of deception in the young witch, which only made things harder and more unpleasant.

"I see. Do you know what this is, Cadet?" She pointed at the stack of parchment containing all missives concerning Tonks and the Black family she had been buried under lately.

"Uh, no, Madam."

"There are certain parties within the Ministry concerned about your intentions and loyalty in wanting to join the Auror Corps."

It was telling that Tonk's hair went snow-white with shock before becoming fiery red in anger. Undaunted, Amelia continued. "Recent events leave me with two less than ideal choices. I can either go ahead, allow you to finish your trial period and if you continue to excel, assign you one of our best as a mentor." Tonks perked up at that and Amelia really hated what had to come next. "If I do it, then sooner or later I'll have to do my best to turn you against the one threat you are uniquely qualified to help us with – infiltrating your own family and their new employers so you can report everything you learn from them. My only other acceptable alternative is to terminate your tenure as an Auror Cadet due to conflict of interests and suspected loyalties." And wouldn't have it been great if the same could be done with those suspected or known to be blood purists?

Tonks opened and closed her mouth a few times while her hair went through a curious change of colours until it stopped at midnight black. "I see, Madam Director. In that case I must respectfully offer my resignation."

"For what little its worth, Cadet Tonks, I am sorry about this."

"I know, Madam. I appreciate that you are straight with me. I'll return the favour. Two days ago, my parents brought me to a meeting between Mr Veil, his chief solicitor and a person I could best describe as a mercenary sworn and paid for by either Veil and whoever is his master. I know that they will be meeting you in a few days. One of the reasons why I was brought in is because obviously Mr Veil foresaw this particular development."

All Amelia could do was grimace at that development. She wouldn't be surprised if the man was ready of make Tonks a job offer if he hadn't already. She should have expected this, she perhaps did but didn't want to admit it aloud to herself. So we lose one of the best only for the other side to pick them up. At this rate, we might just have to hand Veil or his Master the keys to the Ministry and be done with it! Amelia steeled herself. They stood against Voldemort. They will stand against the newest Dark Lord as well.

"Please continue and thank you for sharing." Amelia said.

"They are ready to meet you in court if you push things legally, something you should expect." Amelia nodded. The Department's legal experts were busy looking for any legal way to keep Harry as far away from Veil as possible.

"In case certain parties," Tonks said carefully, "decide to disregard the law, then Mr Veil is ready to bring in at least a platoon mercenaries in order to safeguard his Apprentice and my family."

If this wasn't a mere bluff played for Tonks' and the Ministry's benefit, that meant Veil had at least twenty to thirty combatants he could call on a short notice. If he had access to his Lord's shock-troops from the continent, who were rumoured to be highly trained werewolves, vampires and Dark Wizards and Witches, then it could be the Blood War come again with much weaker Ministry and Auror Corps to face them.

Time, resources, allies. They needed all of those, but time more than anything. The later could be obtained then.

"I've received the message loud and clear, Cadet Tonks and I'll rely it to the relevant parties. My secretary will help you file in the necessary parchment-work. Thank you and goodbye."

"Goodbye, Madam Director." Tonks turned around and left, her head held high.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 _Harry Potter, Dark Wizard? Shocking statement from House Potter solicitor Theodore Tonks! Our saviour, Harry James Potter has become the Apprentice of the controversial Dark Wizard Dimitri Veil, from the Noble House of Veil this may, solicitor Tonks reported earlier this evening!_

 _Magical Britain shocked! Are we seeing the prelude of a new war? Is Harry Potter a Dark Lord in training?_

 _Is House Black coming back? Yesterday morning, the Dark Wizard's Apprentice, Harry Potter was seen at Gringotts in the company of Andromeda Tonks, nee Black. Her husband, Theodore Tonks was revealed to be the primary solicitor for House Potter. Narcisca Malfoy, Nee Black, sister to Andromeda Tonks refused to comment._

 _What would the eventual return of House Potter to politics herald? For years now it has been believed that House Potter would either stand by the historical alliances with the Neutral League or move to the Progressive alliance. New developments indicate a possible House Potter shift to the Conservative Block…_

 _Third day of protests after Harry Potter was revealed to be a Dark Wizard in training! The Wizengamot will assemble at the end of the month after DMLE has had time to investigate the situation and prepare a report…_

 _Aurors and Hit Wizards continue with heavy presence at Diagon Alley, Knockturn Alley, Hogsmeade and Godrick's Hollow..._

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **19 August 1991**

 **Atrium**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **UK**

If Dimitri Veil was believed to be the Dark Lord's right hand and his public face, then his left hand, who often served as a companion and bodyguard to Veil was Ignatius Vance, who was believed to be the common go-between the two of them. It was telling that early Monday morning, in a ministry already besieged by reporters and scared citizens looking for answers, Veil and company arrived with an escort led by Vance himself.

First to Floo in the Ministry Atrium were four large men clad in battle robes followed by the infamous mercenary Vance. Once they gave the all clear Veil himself came in a flash of green flames followed by Harry Potter and the Tonks family – who all wore pristine and high quality duelling robes. The message they sent to all the visitors, including at least five reporters was that they didn't trust the Ministry nor did they were scared of it.

There hasn't been such a display of outright defiance and contempt since the bad old days when Houses like Black were powers to be reckoned in, which was probably intended with Andromeda and Nymphadora being part of the visiting party.

Utter shocked silence reigned within the lobby and Amelia was glad that she heeded Veil's warning to meet him on arrival. It was her presence along with her usual Auror escort that helped stave of a confrontation that might have escalated.

"Mr Veil, Mr Potter, Mr and Mrs Tonks, please follow me." Amelia greeted politely and ushered the whole group towards the second level of the Ministry where her office stood. Just in case she did put her Aurors on high alert – though for days now they knew not to start anything without provocation.

"Lead the way, Madam Director." Veil graciously accepted and they moved away before excited chatter and dark mutters in equal measure drowned the atrium.

Twenty Aurors stopped whatever they were doing and stared at the procession Amelia led through the heart of her Department until they reached her office, where she invited, Veil, Potter and the Tonkses. At least there were no protests from their security details, which could have been unfortunate for everyone involved.

Dumbledore and Moody, fresh from the first round of meetings with a Mind-Healer, waited inside sat at one side of a long table that took most of the space in the office. "Please take seats." Amelia invited and went to seat at the head of the table between the two wizards. Veil sat across the director, with Harry and Tonks, the solicitor on his right and Andromeda and Nymphadora to the left.

"You requested this meeting, Madam Director. Say your piece."

"Very well. At this time we will not challenge your status as Mr Potter's Master if certain conditions are met."

"I'm all ears." Veil answered blandly.

"First and foremost, he will remain in Magical Britain and attend Hogwarts for all seven years of his education."

"Unless something drastically changes either on the Ministry's side or at Hogwarts, that is an acceptable condition." Veil stated. The rest of his part, including Harry simply looked at the three of them stone-faced.

Amelia glanced at Dumbledore before continuing. "His permanent place of residence will remain Privet Drive Number Four, however there will be regular visits by Aurors to ensure that his relatives continue to behave and that you have not removed him from the protections meant to defend him against hostile magic."

"Again, acceptable. I have no intention of mind-whamming my own Apprentice. It would be counter-productive." Veil actually offered them a pleasant smile.

Well, then. It remained to be seen if he would honour that condition or not in the future. It was questionable if the protections would do much if anything if someone influenced Harry's mind outside of their boundaries when he returned, yet that was better than nothing. Perhaps a few detection spells thrown by the visiting Aurors to make sure the boy was all right might help calm everyone's suspicions…

"Mr Potter will be regularly examined by a Ministry supplied and qualified healer to make sure that he has recovered from his ordeal and that there are no relapses on anyone's part." She sent that shot as much at Dumbledore as at Veil and his minions.

"A reasonable precaution. I'll reserve my right to be either personally present or have a representative at any such meeting. If she accepts, Mrs Tonks would suit my purposes."

"I accept, if Harry is all right with it."

"I am, cousin."

"To be fair, I have a few conditions as well. If anything happens to Harry at Hogwarts, like injuries if he decides to pursue Quidditch or flying, being hexed by a student, a potion accident… anything at all that might bring him to the attention to the school's medical professional, I want to be informed as well as the Tonks family and no one will bar us from visiting my Apprentice. The same will be true if he gets in any sort of trouble that would usually require his parents or guardians to either be informed or come to school to deal with it."

"That is most irregular, Mr Veil. While the Tonks family are distant relatives, your blood connection with the Potters is so far removed as to be non-existent. There are legal requirements..." Dumbledore continued.

Veil raised a hand. "Enough. Let's not pretend that if you believed you could get away with it, the law would have stopped you in this instance. I can sense your emotions as clear as a day. If it wasn't for your fear that My Lord will allow me to use his resources to get back my Apprentice, you would have no qualms whatsoever in kidnapping him and keeping him as far away as possible from me. It is the political consequences as well as the damage dragging your name through the mud, Chief Warlock, that stays your hand from bringing us in front of the Wizengamot and doing your damned best to shatter traditions that have been sacred for millennia. That and the fact you're as likely to lose such a gambit as not. Neither the Conservative Block nor the majority of the Neutral League would stand for such a precedent even if it means a successful attempt to keep me away from my Apprentice. I am prepared to allow certain concessions because open conflict isn't in anyone's interest. However, make no mistake, Harry is my Apprentice and I will protect him with everything I have and I am. My Lord and Master taught me well. I will safeguard my Apprentice both against his enemies and those who would decide his life for his 'own' good."

"Then you admit that you are sworn to serve a Dark Lord?" Moody spoke for the first time. It was a small miracle he contained himself until now.

"All I am admitting is that I learned much of what I know from a man you dub a Dark Lord. While he might have certain organizations that serve him and certain governments have outlawed them, I am not and have never been a member of said organizations."

Ah, semantics. Those often were enough to give Amelia a headache on their own.

"If Mr Potter practices or uses Dark Magic at Hogwarts, there will be consequences." Dumbledore forged ahead.

"He will not, unless his life or limb are on the line. Or those of his friends, in which case, whatever happens as a consequence will be on your head, Headmaster. The safety of the students is your responsibility after all." Veil countered.

As the meeting continued, with the most sticking points already covered, Amelia wondered how did they fall so low that they were forced to negotiate with a representative of a Dark Lord. Even during the height of Voldemort's reign of terror, when they were loosing the war, something like this didn't happen. Then again… It was clear what they could accept from Voldemort – those who had resisted him were deemed to die screaming or worse if they lost the war. There was no choice but to fight, at least for those who had the guts and conviction to oppose him.

Veil and his Lord, even if they weren't as murderous and evil, as far as anyone knew anyway, they might be more dangerous. _They were reasonable. They weren't out to exterminate a whole subsection of the magical population or so it appeared._ That by itself was going to ensure less people opposed them than Voldemort. At that moment, Amelia almost wished that Veil was a raving lunatic like the previous Dark Lord – it would have made things so much simpler.


	28. Chapter 9 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Hogwarts – new friends, enemies, rivals and sortings**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **1 September 1991**

 **Station 9 ¾**

 **London**

Until now, Harry suffered the delusion that his visit to Diagon Alley with Hagrid and the one to the Ministry were bad enough as far as people staring, pointing and muttering went. Upon arrival at the train station escorted by said Master and cousin Andromeda, he had to rethink his beliefs. True, he had seen some of the Prophet's articles speculating about him, especially those from that odd woman Skeeter – they had little to do with reality but apparently no one seemed to care.

It was uncomfortable to say the least – people stared, pointed and either muttered darkly or stared at him with gleam in their eyes. Some even pushed their children behind them as if to protect them from his small group. Harry could actually perceive their emotions, their fear, anger, the sense of betrayal, even anticipation and respect.

" _Chin up, Apprentice. Everyone is watching and judging you now. You will make me proud."_ Those words rang within Harry's mind like cannon blasts. This was no suggestion, nor gentle encouragement. It was an order and he dared not even thing of disobeying. Harry straightened his spine and looked at the clusters of families and friends gathered to send their children to Hogwarts. No matter if they sent him glared of fearful glances, he did his best to meet their eyes with a cool look of his own.

He was no longer the scared boy stuck in a cupboard! He was a wizard, he was his Master's Apprentice! Those strangers would not cower him! He had to make his Master and cousin Andromeda proud! He wouldn't betray the trust they put in him and he would live up to their high expectations!

No matter how hard and sometimes unnatural it felt to act as they taught him to!

In contrast to his Master who appeared highly amused by the attention and apprehension that their very presence created into everyone else, cousin Andromeda stood tall and aloof with only a small, prideful smile showing her true emotions.

"You'll do well Harry. Trust in what we taught you, trust in yourself and you will make not only us but your ancestors proud."

"I will, cousin." Harry nodded, giving her a polite nod and did his best to squish the need to step behind her and hide from the attention. He wasn't angry today, not like during his visit to Diagon with Hagrid nor like he was at the Ministry. It now dawned to him that his anger and frustration were a shield against the fear and the sense that he might not be adequate enough to live up to the high expectations.

" _Do not let your fear guide you, Apprentice. It is a tool that can keep you alive, however it should not rule you. Stand tall and proud."_

Harry gulped and tried to stand even straighter, if that was at all possible.

Out there, on open, no one dared approach them. Harry told his goodbyes and pushed his charmed luggage forward towards the train. With a feather light charm applied, all he brought to Hogwarts currently weighted less than a light grocery bag. He manoeuvred his luggage on the train, found the first empty compartment and claimed it as his own. He saw his Master and cousin still waiting outside, waved at them and set up to secure his luggage for the travel to come. When he looked back outside, he saw a few people staring at the window of his compartment wearing all kinds of expressions and caught a sharp nod from his Master and a genuine smile from Andromeda before both of them Apparated away.

" _May the Force serve you well, Apprentice."_ His Master pulled back from his mind with those parting words and their bond went dormant.

Harry collapsed in the closest seat and rubbed his forehead. Damn, this was harder than he expected and what he just faced outside was simply a taste of things to come, he knew it. He grumbled at himself at the unfairness of it all, sat up in a more dignified manner and straightened up his expensive robes. He had an impression to make an it wouldn't do for his future classmates to perceive him just like an ordinary kid. They would watch, judge, write home… Harry winced. So much for his one time desire to be just Harry and live a normal life with a family that gave a damn about him. At least now he had the latter. It was too bad it came with all kinds of strings attached, though it sure as hell beat being worked worse than a House Elf. Those odd little blighters at least enjoyed having to work all the time.

The crowd outside began to either walk out or Apparate away, the rest of the children and older students boarded the train, yet one thing remained constant – there were always people staring at his compartment's window, students paused at the closed door and looked inside through its two small windows. Awe, fear, even hatred washed over him, sometimes even all three emotions.

The train's horn blasted and the express began to slowly move away from the station. At least that led to people finally finding their own bloody compartments and for a short while no one came to gawk at him as if he was a rare animal in the Zoo. Even as he felt relief at the brief respite, Harry had to revisit his estimation how much this whole magical school thing was going to suck, upwards, again.

Now and then, people dashed through the corridor throwing weary glances in this compartment, yet so far no one dared approach him, which to be honest, was a relief for Harry. It wasn't like he was particularly good at this whole friend and acquaintances thing, which was one of the primary reasons he was coming to Hogwarts. That and to study magic, of course.

Harry looked out of the window, simply staring at the landscape passing by and tried to meditate and master his unruly emotions. He didn't know how long he did it when he sensed new presence standing at the door. He turned his head and looked through the windows to see a lanky blond boy a bit shorter than him. He wore well cut expensive robes that were vaguely similar to his own. The boy nodded at him, and opened the door.

"Harry Potter?" He asked warily.

"Yes, And you are?" He answered politely. Now that he was a bit calmer and his fear wasn't running rampant, it was much easier to fall into the lessons that Andromeda spent months drilling into him.

"Draco, Draco Malfoy." The blond offered his hand and looked at him, waiting for response.

Harry stood up and grasped took the offer, shaking the hand while gripping it firmly but not too hard, as it was polite to do. "Good to meet you, Mr Malfoy." He glanced at the two larger boys standing outside and looking apprehensively at him – as if they didn't know what to make of Harry. "Care to introduce your companions?"

"Ah." Malfoy nodded and blushed lightly at the faux pass of forgetting to do it. "Those are Vincent Crabbe," He nodded at the more chubby and red faced boy to the right, "and Gregory Goyle". He was a bit taller than Harry and had broader shoulders, making him appear even larger than Draco than he really was.

"Nice to meet you." Harry nodded at the newly introduced wizards in turn. "Do come in and make yourselves comfortable." He offered and went back to his seat.

Malfoy sat across Harry, while the blond's friends did a poor imitation of Mr Veil's guards as they remained outside trying to act like guards. Harry raised an eyebrow at that and offered Malfoy a questionable look.

"My father decided that I should have minions and learn how to manage them as a status symbol. They're cool enough I guess."

"I see." Harry allowed. He knew for a fact that his Master wouldn't allow him to have minions on his own, much less reliable people until he was confident that Harry knew enough not to mismanage and waste them. Handing someone a pair of those and throwing them all on the deep end sounded like a wasteful way to learn. Well, they were Malfoy's problem and responsibility. Then again, having minions sounded cool! "You did approach me, Mr Malfoy. I don't think you just wanted to introduce yourself and your two friends." Harry had to admit that it was hard to find the right words and to do his best not to sound like a clueless kid, which simply wouldn't do!

"You're an odd one." Malfoy frowned. "Not at all what we expected, which is a good thing!" He perked up. "You know, there are some better families than others, in our world. People worth knowing and having on your side."

"That much should be obvious." Harry nodded. Of course it was debatable what exactly made some better than others and as his Master tended to say, much of it depended on who you were and where you stood.

Draco beamed at that statement. "I knew you were really one of us!"

"I am?" Harry answered in a bemused tone. That was a bit of a jump, wasn't it? It wasn't like anyone outside his small circle of distant relatives, trainers and of course his Master really knew anything about him. Really! What was with people and jumping to all kinds of conclusions all the time! This was just like those crazy articles in the papers all over again… not that those actually stopped…

"Yes?" Draco looked confused. "You just said so!" He pointed an accusing finger at Potter's chest.

"I did?" Now it was Harry's turn to frown.

"You just agreed that some families are better than others!" Malfoy snapped.

"Yes? So? Just like some people are better than others." Like most people being better than his oh so "loving" Aunt and Uncle. "You don't know why I might consider that to be the case and I don't know why you consider that some are better than others. We simply agree that some are better than others." Now Harry felt a bit confused by his own logic but whatever, he got his meaning through, right?

Malfoy scrunched his face in thought. "Yes?" He warily asked.

"Why do you consider that some people and families are better than others? We just agreed that they are, now it remains to see if we can agree on why that's the case." Harry tried to explain better.

"Well, some have better breeding than others, purer blood. They're just better." Draco nodded sagely.

"Does it? Do you have any proof?"

"Everyone knows it!"

"I'm not sure I do. I'm the first half-blood in my family like ever and as far as everyone know, that was enough for Voldemort to blow himself up when he tried to kill me. My father was Pureblood, but that didn't help him, my mother was a Muggleborn, didn't help her either. Me a Half-blood? Dark Lord went boom. So as far as I'm concerned, I need a better reason that 'because someone said so'. Unless we accept that Half-bloods like me are awesome and leave it like that." Harry grinned.

"That makes no sense!" Draco exclaimed.

"Yep. Tell me about it."

"I might have to write to my father to ask for a better explanation." He perked up again. "I'll do it tonight after we're sorted. What House do you think you'll be in? I'm going in Slytherin like my mother and father!"

"Well, I'm not sure. I've heard both good and bad things about all the Houses..."

"Let me tell you all about Slytherin! It's the best!" Malfoy began a rambling tirade about the high points of Slytherin.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts express**

For at least half an hour, Malfoy spoke excitedly about Slytherin House and how great it was. For all his eagerness, cousin Andromeda's overview of the houses sounded more believable in no small part because she explained both the positives and negatives that came with spending seven years in either of them. Midway through the talk, Vincent and Gregory did come inside and sat near the door, though they merely listened without offering anything in return.

"Slytherin is the House of the cunning and ambitious! Of the pure!" This, which sounded more like a mantra, Draco repeated for at least a fourth time, very excitedly too.

Harry could agree that being crafty and sneaky was very important – if he hadn't learned to be one, he would have gone very hungry more when something went wrong at his relatives and he ended up locked in his cupboard for prolonged periods of time. It was something that a proper wizard, no matter light or dark, much less a Sith had to be. Ambition – well, he was now, he guessed. He wanted to never be weak again, to be able to make the best decisions for himself, hell, even if not the best, he wanted to be powerful enough to choose his own future! That was what his Master offered and he wasn't going to disappoint!

Curiously, Draco didn't really mention being resourceful, or he did and Harry missed it. It was a very long and very excited tirade he was being subjected on after all. Learning to use what you had as best as you could, perhaps in novel and exciting ways – there was a draw in that sentiment, Harry had to admit. Even if he didn't agree with Draco's bias about what was proper, the repeated statements that Slytherin was the home of the proper Purebloods and decent half-bloods, if grudgingly in the latter case, had merit too. Many powerful families in magical Britain were Pureblood and valued it, being close to them would open doors that otherwise might remain closed forever. He wasn't sure he fully understood that statement yet, however there was merit in befriending people with powerful families. Even his bloody Uncle agreed, which was a sour topic, with Vernon telling Dudley he should befriend his schoolmates because that would be important in the future!

While Draco went on to speak about the Slytherin Quidditch team and his hopes to be on it come next year, Harry thought about Andromeda's explanation about Slytherin's negative traits, though at least a few of those, she admitted were sometimes a blessing in disguise.

Many Slytherins, she told him, had a highly developed sense of self-preservation. They would usually look out for themselves first and you would rarely find heroes in there unless they were family or friends. The Slytherins might help you because you were a fellow snake, especially against the other Houses, however inside, the odds were you had to rely only on yourself and a close circle of friends and relatives.

Well, Harry did learn at an early age that keeping your head down was conductive to good health…

Another mixed bag and something that made many outright hate Slytherins was the fact that for many a snake, the end justified the means. Slytherins were seen often as lax when it came to morals or following the law. It was one of the traits that according to many had driven so many of them straight into Voldemort's arms during his rise, which Andromeda admitted, was a great simplification at best.

Finally, something that certainly had them looked down by the other Houses, many Slytherins were power-hungry and would go to lengths that others found unacceptable in pursuit of power. Well, honestly, why was that so bad? Harry had been powerless, he knew exactly what it meant and how you can suffer because of it. He needed power to be safe, to have a say in his own future! Hmm… what were again the downsides of being a Slytherin? That other people would judge and hate him for it? They kinda already did do that without him even being sorted…

Perhaps, Draco actually had a point there in telling that Slytherin was a great house. Then again, cousin Andromeda did explain the good and bad sides of the other Houses as well so he could make an informed decision when the time came, whatever that meant considering that no one told him how they would be sorted!

A new presence and a knock on the door brought Harry from his musings and half-hearted listening to Draco's words about Quidditch and brooms. That reminded him – he had been wrong during his first visit to Diagon Alley. Those kids weren't stuck up doing all the cleaning, they actually flew on brooms, which was neat. He wished he could had done so instead of having to clean the house everyday for years…

The newcomer was an older boy already wearing the school uniform, in his case in Hufflepuff's brown and yellow colours complete with the House's crest.

"Harry Potter, I presume? I'm Cedirc Diggory, nice to met you!" The boy grinned at them. "May I come in and have a word?"

"Certainly, Mr Diggory." Harry waved the boy and stood up so they could shook hands. "You're right, I'm Harry Potter and this is Draco Malfoy."

"Lucius Malfoy son, right?" Draco nodded and he too exchanged handshake with the newcomer.

Draco introduced his minions in training too, which led to more handshakes before Diggory told them why he came to visit.

"Our last year's Prefect," Diggory's smiled disarmingly, "She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, unless you want to get hexed, owed a few of her friends and asked that we keep an eye on her cousin given all the clamour. You all right, Harry? Anyone giving you any trouble already?"

"Just everyone staring, pointing and muttering, the works. It's less than fun."

Diggory grimaced. "That's fame for you and I don't think we can do anything about it but let it take its course and hope that people would get bored from it. Are you two looking forward to seeing Hogwarts for the first time and getting sorted?"

"Yeah." Both younger boys nodded. "How are we getting sorted anyway? No one is saying anything?"

"That's a secret. Nothing bad, I promise. Certainly you won't have to fight trolls." Cedric chuckled.

"Trolls?!" Draco exclaimed.

"I just met a Weasley on the way here who was being ribbed by his brothers. They were telling the poor lad that you firsties will have to fight one. Nonsense, believe me. Now, that I'm here, I feel obliged to follow Nym's orders and give you Hufflepuff's sales pitch." Cedric grinned widely. "Badger power for the win!" He joked.

"Might as well hear it." Harry said and hurried to add, when he saw Draco open his mouth to protest, "though I doubt Mr Malfoy would be dissuaded from pursuing Slytherin no matter what you tell us."

"You can call me Draco, Potter." Malfoy interjected.

"It's Harry, then Draco. You were saying, Mr Diggory?"

"Call me Cedric, Mr Diggory makes me look over my shoulder for my old man." Cedric joked. "Well, we 'Puffs are the friendliest bunch there is in Hogwarts – you won't find more loyal buddies once we accept someone as a friend. We prefer to do what's right and we aren't really part of the 'great' rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin, which if you ask me is mostly a nonsense that has gone way out of hand." Cedric looked thoughtful. "I should warn you, if one of your four or all of you end up in one of two houses, watch your backs. It isn't unknown for those houses to use vicious pranks, hexes, bullying, we've had a few outright brawls, both with magic and without. It's a mess, sometimes in class too, especially Potions if even half of what I hear about it is true."

That certainly didn't sound good. Harry and Draco looked at each other wide-eyed. What madhouse were they going into?!

"Well, we tend to be hard-working too, though people unfairly dis us about it." Cedric continued on a lighter tone. "We merely want to get all the studying and homework out of the way as fast as we can so we can either have fun or kick back and relax and we certainly help each other as much as possible." A brier frown flickered through his face. "Not like some things I've heard about the Ravens." He muttered quietly.

"I hear that Hufflepuffs have no ambition." Draco asked. "Is it true?"

"Nope. We just don't really care about the House points or the Cup. We aren't in school because of them and prefer to concentrate on more important, not to mention, fun pursuits. That and we usually don't really care to brag about ourselves so people tend to often ignore us or grumble that we aren't nothing special."

Harry perked at that. It sounded neat, especially if something like that could keep him out of the spotlight. The time he spent on the station with everyone staring was intensely unpleasant!

"We also have a badger as a mascot, which is awesome, not to mention the most important feature of our dorms..." Cedric leaned forward to whisper consiprationally, "they're right next to the kitchens and the Hogwart's Elves are always eager to give us a snack or two."

"Now that's a feature!" Harry nodded. After everything, knowing where the kitchen was and having an easy access to it sounded like a very good point, even better if he wasn't the one to cook and there was food practically on demand!

"It sounds not as bad as I've been told." Draco admitted. "Slytherin is still cooler, though!"

"Whatever floats your boat, Mr Malfoy." Cedric shrugged. "I'll see you around and if you need anything don't be afraid to call. We much less judgemental than the others as well. Bye, firsties!"

"Well, that was odd." Draco concluded. "Who is your cousin who went to Hufflepuff and why they call her that?"

"Nymphadora Tonks. She hexes everyone but cousin Andromeda and my Master if they use her first name."

Draco's face went through a curious change of colours when he heard those names. He opened his mouth then closes it with an audible clack. "Cousin Tonks, I see." He muttered in an odd tone and looked thoughtfully through the window.

Soon, Harry followed suit and for a bit they travelled in comfortable silence until another presence approached the door and knocked.

Who was this time, Harry wondered.


	29. Chapter 9 Parts 7&8

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Hogwarts – new friends, enemies, rivals and sortings**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts express**

Harry looked at the door and stared. There was a girl there, staring back at him, though for a change it wasn't with awe nor fear, which was good thing, really. A refreshing change too. What got his attention was her hair – that was _a lot_ of curly hair.

"Yes? Do come in." Harry spoke on autopilot. That couldn't be natural hair, surely. It made his infamous Potter one as his cousin referred to it look tame and easy to handle by comparison. One of his distant ancestors had even invented a potion to make it more manageable, by all accounts he made a lot of money with it too.

"Um, hi?" The girl stammered in a small voice. A shy and uncomfortable looking and feeling boy walked behind the girl and looked at everyone with apprehension.

"Hello yourself." A round of awkward introductions followed. When the boy, one Neville Longbottom figured that he was in the same compartment with Harry and Draco, he got even more scared. Was there some kind of a feud between their families? Harry could recall that the Longbottoms were one of the oldest Houses around, they were related to the Blacks as well, well like most of all important families in magical Britain… There was something nagging at the back of his head, about the Blacks and Longbottoms, however he couldn't really recall it.

"Neville here lost his toad, have you seen one?" The girl, Hermione Granger stammered, still watching Harry with ill disguised excitement and anticipation. What was that about?

"Toad?" Draco asked in disdain. "What kind of useless pet is a toad? Aren't those just croak, jump around and eat flies?"

While Harry was sure he wouldn't have put the sentiment that bluntly he had to generally agree. At lest his pain in the butt owl could carry post.

"We haven't see any toads." Harry said.

"Oh." Both the girl and Longbottom looked disappointed at that. The boy also glanced at the door as if he wanted nothing more than to escape – something that his fear made crystal clear.

"Is your master really Dimitri Veil, CEO and founder of Mandal Technologies?" Granger spoke almost too fast to be understood, in fact everything she just said sounded like one long word.

That was certainly a new one. Harry hadn't met anyone like this before! Mr Veil was his Master! A surge of anger and jealosity went through him at that thought. Righteous indignation too.

"Can I have an autograph? Both from him and you?!" The girl continued to ramble making Draco snort. "What Mr Veil is doing… The Prophet can't be right… just as bad if not worse than tabloid about this..." The girl continued and it seemed that when she got this wound up, she didn't need to breath.

Harry and Draco exchanged bemused glances, his brief spike of anger all but forgotten and replaced by mirth.

"What's so funny?" The girl eventually challenged, after she finally breathed in.

"Its just that this is the first time I see or hear someone who doesn't know my Master defend him, especially with such a passion." Harry explained.

"He's doing great things!" Granger sounded offended at the very idea of someone not being a fan of his Master. "My parents…" She shook her head and blushed. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"You think?" Draco snorted.

"Just a little bit." Harry smiled at the girl.

"Well, it's just that…" She stammered. "I've read everything written about Mr Veil! What he and his company are going to achieve… they're going to change the word for the better!"

That declaration made everyone look expectantly at Harry who sighed at the sudden attention.

"You do know that I'm just eleven and my Master actually doesn't give me a briefing about his business in the mundane world? All I really know is he's terribly busy ever since that spy scandal happened and that he's pissed off at all NATO governments..." Which was probably something that only Hermione had a clue what it meant. Harry groaned, he so didn't want to explain what little he knew about the mundane world politics and their relationship with his Mater. "You know what, if you want to know, I might explain when we're at Hogwarts. I really don't feel like giving a lesson right now."

While Draco and the other boys just shrugged at that, Granger both looked like and radiated outrage at the very idea. "But that is… a lesson…" She mumbled.

Well, Harry kinda could get behind he sentient – he would be offended too and was when something forced his Master to cut a lesson short and leave to deal with the latest problem.

The girl shook her head, something that made her hair look alive and do odd things. "You've got to be in Ravenclaw then, with Mr Veil as teacher!" Both the girls head and her hair bobbed up and down. "I first wanted to be in Gryffindor after Professor McGongall came to visit and explain I was a witch but after reading the Prophet over the past few weeks…" She trailed off.

"Was it because Dumbledore was supposed to be that great and benevolent wizard? I can assure you, he can be an utter negligent bastard."

Draco raised both eyebrows at that before slowly nodding. "My father isn't a fan of that man and warned me to be careful around him." He added.

"The same goes for my Master and me."

At those words, Longbottom became even more terrified, not to mention that he sent a betrayed look at Hermione's back.

"Mr Longbottom, we don't bite, you know. Nor are we going to hex you without reason." Harry said exasperated.

"You… won't?" The boy stammered.

"I don't know. It might at least give you a reason to be scared, Longbottom." Draco drawled.

"No, we won't." Harry stressed. "What house do you two want to be in anyway? I've already heard all about Slytherin and Hufflepuff."

"Well, as I said, I was so sure that I wanted to be in Gryffindor but now..." Granger blushed.

"Gryffindor, brave, daring, chivalrous, unless you're in Slytherin." Draco snorted. "Then they become arrogant, self-righteous bullying prats. Merlin, even that 'Puff Cedric agreed!"

"They're not lie that!" To everyone's surprise, that outburst came from Longbottom.

"According to who?" Draco countered.

"My Gran!" The scared boy rallied again. He was still terrified, yet now he was angry and determined too, which was a familiar state of affairs for Harry. "My parents went there!"

"Mine too. From what I hear, my father loved pranking, hexing and likely bullying Slytherins for being Slytherins though to be fair, they apparently were just as bad. We aren't our parents and it has been a decade or more since they went to Hogwarts. It's not a given that the Houses are the same."

"Not what Diggory said about Gryffindor and Slytherin, though admittedly he was biased in the 'Puff's favour." Draco pointed out.

"So, are there any other good points about Gryffindor that you know of, Ms Granger? So far it sounds like a mixed bag, not to mention people who don't exactly put much effort in studying. Too busy playing around I guess." Harry continued.

"I… I'm honestly not sure."

"What about you, Mr Longbottom?"

"Gryffindor's are supposed to be good wizards..."

"Too bad no one told that to my damned godfather Sirius Black." Harry grumbled. He knew for a fact that not all Gryffindors were knights in shining armour just like not all Slytherins were evil – case in point, cousin Andromeda.

The mention of the infamous traitor and murderer put a dampener on the conversation.

"What does anyone know about Ravenclaw anyway? I'm sure I won't be getting unbiased introduction to Gryffindor from you."

"You don't sound like this is the first time you heard about the houses, Harry. Has… aunt Andromeda told you everything about them?" It appeared it was had for Draco to admit he was so closely related to Harry's cousin. Most likely because the whole being disinherited thing.

"Well, naturally. She has been teaching me about the magical world these past couple of months."

Draco's eyebrows tried to reach his hair and he nodded to himself. "Mum was right…" he whispered.

Granger just looked confuse at that exchange, while Neville actually took a step back.

"A… Andromeda Tonks?" He croaked

"My distant cousin and Draco's estranged Aunt." Harry confirmed then winced when it finally came to him. Cousin Bellatrix who was stuck in Azkaban for crimes she was proud of, including the torture into insanity of a pair of famous Aurors – the Longbottoms, Neville's parents. "For what little it's worth, I'm sorry for your loss. By all accounts, Bellatrix Lestrange is barking insane."

Now Longbottom stared at Harry in shock. Whatever he had expected, this wasn't it. Well, Harry had to admit, breaking people's expectations was actually fun. "So, Ravenclaw? Good and bad sides, anyone?" He changed the topic before things could get even more awkward.

Granger perked up at that. "That House used to be my second choice… if we get to choose anyway. Ravenclaws are supposed to represent intelligence and creativity. They are meant to be very knowledgeable as well…" The girl babbled excitedly.

"Mum told me that they are often arrogant however, rivalling the Gryffidorks in that regard. They also used to form their own cliques as study groups, look upon outsiders and generally keep to themselves, which in my book is a plus. Not necessary a good place to make many friends or more importantly, connections."

"They also sometimes tend to hoard knowledge or that's what cousins Andromeda and Tonks told me."

"But that's terrible!" Granger sounded gravely offended at the very idea.

"That's the 'Claws for you or so they tell us." Draco shrugged before taking a closer look at the girl and frowning as if he couldn't believe he had a civil conversation with her.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 8**

 **=TSA=**

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts express**

After a brief discussion on the merits of the Hogwarts Houses, one where Draco was too deep in thought to go on another advertising campaign about Slytherin, Granger and Longbottom left to continue their quest for Trevor the Toad. That left the four boys in relaxing silence with the only other interrupting being an old lady and her cart with magical sweets – something that was the high point for the remainder of the trip. Soon after the cart lady left, Draco and his minions went to their own compartment and that left the boy finally at peace. Now that he was alone and they were getting closer to the school, Harry got into his uniform and sat back spending time on meditation and thinking about the schoolmates he met so far. All things considered, Hogwarts might not be as bad as the staring at the station implied. One could only hope, right?

The rest of the trip flew away without Harry really noticing until an announcement sounded telling everyone that they should leave their luggage behind and that it would be handled, which was a good thing. Soon, the train came to a stop and it was time to face the music, again. With a sigh, Harry braced himself, checked his uniform, plastered a confident expression on his face and marched on. As he exited the compartment and joined a stream of disembarking students, it immediately became clear that he had to abandon any hope of being left alone. Everyone stared, again, not to mention the mutters and all the emotions he could sense once anyone figured out who he was. On the bright side, people gave him a wide berth.

"Harry!" Draco shouted once he got off the train. Malfoy was waiting for him with his minions in tow and two unfamiliar boys. One was tall and lanky dark skinned boy who Draco introduced as Blaise Zabini. He felt more amused than anything else, which made him tentatively all right in Harry's book.

The other one, was tall as well, however appeared reedy and too thin. He introduced himself as Theodore Nott and though he displayed all the courtesy expected by a Pureblood, the apprehension he felt at the meeting was thick enough to touch. There was a bit of fear there, however the boy simply radiated uncertainty as if he didn't know what to make of Harry.

The friendly introductions and banter between him, Draco and his friends didn't go unnoticed and Harry could feel the dark and fearful looks many threw at his back, the cowards. There was thick disappointment as well and was that a hint of satisfaction? No, not quite. He wasn't sure what that emotion was, it wasn't something he had sensed exactly the likes of before, but that didn't say much – his emphatic sense was a relatively recent development.

"Come to the boats! Come here, firs years! Gather around me! No more than four to a boat!" And there was Hagrid, the disappointing giant. When he saw Harry he frowned darkly and muttered something under his huge nose.

"Well, lads, let's go."

Whatever else could be said about Hogwarts and those who currently ran it, they knew how to make an impression. All new students had to board boats that were obviously enchanted to swim by themselves and moved them under the huge stone bridge towards the island where the school rose in the distance. It was lit up by lanterns, just like the boats themselves and that combined with the evening mist gave it an ethereal, beautiful quality. Harry had to admit that this was one of the most awe-inspiring things he had seen.

Hagrid led them inside through a few flight of stairs lit up by braziers until they met a tall old witch complete with a wide-brimmed pointed hat and elegant green robes.

"Welcome to Hogwarts! I am Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGongall." She smiled and clapped her hands. "Very soon, we'll walk into the Great Hall where you'll take your seats for the Welcoming Feast. However, first you'll need to be sorted in your Houses, which will be your home for the next seven years." The witch had a way around her that demanded attention even from children who buzzed with excitement and awe from the boat trip. In that thing alone, she did reminded Harry a bit of his Master. "They are Gryffindor," And as she said it, she shone with pride, "Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and..." There was a tiny pause and a spike of unease, complete with a glance that brushed for a moment over Harry, "Slytherin."

Great, even his teachers would be on his case now, damn it all!

At least beside him, Draco preened at the mention of the House he was obsessed with. It was good that some people enjoyed what was happening, Harry guessed.

"As I said, while in Hogwarts, your House will be your family. Your successes will win you and your House points. Every time you misbehave, you will lose points. At the end of the year, the House, which gathers most points will win the House coup – a large source of pride and achievement."

That might have had more impact if Cedric and apparently everyone in Hufflepuff weren't so dismissive of the whole idea. That cup couldn't be as big a deal as the witch made it if a quarter of the school didn't care about it, surely?

"Croak. Croak… Croak!" The insistent sound disrupted the presentation and everyone who could looked at the floor between them and the witch.

"Trevor!" Longbottom exclaimed and ran to pick up the amphibian, eliciting laughter from almost everyone.

At that moment, given what he sensed coming from McGongall and the mortified expression she made, Harry was very glad that he had just a post owl and it wasn't anywhere near here.

"I'll call you shortly, when the Sorting Ceremony begins. Wait here and behave yourselves!" The witch ordered and vanished through the door behind her.

"Well, that could have gone better." Draco said aloud, making many of the children laugh.

"Mr Longbottom, you might want to get a container or something to keep your toad from jumping around." Harry suggested feeling a bit bad at what was happening. He had been in a similar position to Neville back at his mundane school before his Master reined in his relatives.

"That you, Potter, damn traitor!" Someone snapper from within the crowd. Another coward who didn't had the guts to say it in Harry's face.

"What is it to you, whoever you are?" Harry challenged. He had it with people looking down at him and muttering just because his Master came to save him and offered him the power he needed not to be a victim again! Damn them all!

That might have been a mistake – now everyone looked him, some warily, others with outright fear, though there were more than a few, both boys and girls, like Malfoy who gave him approving looks.

Nearby, at the front of the group a red haired boy who was about as tall as Harry turned almost as red as his hair as he watched and listened to what was happening. The emotions Harry could sense from him were a whirlwind – righteous anger, profound disappointment and in no small part fear. Before the red-head could explode, the doors opened and McGongall marched to meet them.

"All right, we're ready for you. Follow me." She ordered and led them in the Great Hall. Four tables as long as the cavernous room was took most of the space within. They were lined with benches on both sides each and there were hundreds of older students watching the procession. At the end of the hall, on a raised stone platform stood the staff's table complete with a group of characters wearing all kinds of odd robes.

Dumbledore too, which was a downer. Most notably, there were a lot of candles floating in the air lighting up the hall and the ceiling – it was as if it wasn't there! Looking up, all Harry could see were clouds though when he squinted at them, he could barely perceive the shape of the arched ceiling beyond them. That was neat!

McGongall led them to the platform with the staff's table and when she moved aside there was a small wooden stool with an old, ratty hat on it.

"Gather over here, children." The witch pointed to her right and the first years filled into the space over there. "Before we begin, Professor Dumbledore wants to tell you a few things." She nodded at the ancient wizard sitting in the middle of the staff table on an ornate wooden chair that resembled a throne.

He stood up, smiled or at least it looked that way behind his huge beard and began his address.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, friends old and new!" He declared jovially before becoming serious. "First, I must stress, especially for you first years. Going to the Forbidden Forest is expressly forbidden!"

The name kinda told them that didn't it, Harry wondered. On the other hand, the place sounded as somewhere he might go on to train in private in the years to come, once his training with his Master advanced. He might have to ask around about that forest.

"Second, our attendant, Mr Filch reminded me to tell you that this year, the third floor corridor is forbidden for anyone who doesn't want to face certain death."

That declaration sent shock through the whole hall and not for the first time, Harry had to wonder what was wrong with Dumbledore. This was something he would be informing his master and cousin Andromeda both through letters and their mental bond.

"Thank you. Let's get sorted now so we can all celebrate and feast!" Dumbledore finished and sat down on his throne.

Suddenly, there was a long roll of parchment in McGongall's hands, she unrolled it and looked at the first years. "When I call your name, you will come here." She nodded at the chair with the hat, I will put the Sorting Hat on your head and you will be sorted. Once that is done, you will go join your House." She picked up the hat and consulted her list.

"Abbot, Hannah." A blonde girl who had been holding hands with a read haired one perked up and skipped to the stool. McGongall put the hat on her head and to everyone's surprise the piece of old cloth came alive! It began moving and muttering to itself too! "Aha! I see, then better be, Hufflepuff!" And just like that, one of the houses exploded with cheers and applauses.

A few other boys and girls he wasn't familiar with got sorted, with each House receiving at least one student, before someone he should be paying attention to was called.

"Bones, Susan." The red-head that was with Abbot perked up and ran to the stool. Almost as soon as the hat touched her head, it shouted Hufflepuff again and the girl ran to be with her friend.

"Crabbe, Vincent!" One of Draco's minions came next and this time the Sorting Hat took significantly longer.

"Are you sure about that? Hmm… No, I think I know better, my boy. Better be Hufflepuff!" The Hat declared and the boy looked stricken for a few moments before joining a Hufflepuff table that was as cheerful as ever.

"That's not right..." Draco muttered and glared at the Sorting hat.

A few more students got sorted, mostly in Gryffindor, with one Slytherin and one Ravenclaw, before minion number two got his turn.

"Goyle, Gregory." For the second time that evening, the Hat took much longer to sort a student. The outcome was the same too. "You'll do better with your old and new friends, lad, now hurry along! Better be, Hufflepuff!"

More cheers followed, yet Draco was far from happy. "What would I do if the damn rag puts me away from Slytherin?! My father might just disinherit me!" Malfoy began to panic.

"I'm sure we'll be all right." Right?

While they whispered, a Davis, Tracey got sorted into Slytherin to cheers from that corner and at least a few Ravenclaws clapping loudly too.

"Granger, Hermione." The bushy haired witch walked to the stool muttering to herself frantically and Harry shushed Malfoy so he could pay attention. He kinda knew her after all.

"Uncertain, are we?" The Sorting Hat rumbled quietly. "I can see you point there. Friends, well it will be up to you to make them, you know."

There was a look of intense concentration on Granger's face while the Hat continued to ramble on her head.

"Yes, lass. I am certain. Better be, Ravenclaw!" The Hat shouted a bit louder than when he announced the other students.

Hermione preened and walked to her new House to thunderous applause or it at least felt that way – Ravenclaw table was right next to where the first years waited to be sorted.

"Greengrass, Daphnie." A tall brown haired girl strode confidently to the chair and demurely sat down. From the way she carried herself, she reminded Harry of cousin Andromeda - a perfect picture of Pureblood princess when she wanted to be.

The hat touched Greengrass' hair for only couple of seconds before gleefully announcing: "Slytherin!"

"Well, the damn rag might actually work from time to time." Draco muttered, yet felt a bit more relaxed.

"I certainly hope so." Harry added. A few more students went by, with what had to be the standard, short sortings ending up in all four houses until it was Neville's turn.

He was another long one.

"You sure about that, lad? It's all there in your head. I don't think you'll do well there. No, no. I can see it, you know? You need friends, lad. Better be, Hufflepuff!"

More cheers engulfed the Great Hall.

"Well, that went as expected. Could you imagine him in Gryffindor or worse, Slytherin?" Draco snorted.

To he honest, from what little he saw, Harry really couldn't.

Theodore Nott came soon and he was a brief sorting – a shoe in Slytherin, something that helped Draco relax even more. Then suddenly it was his turn.

"Next, Draco Malfoy." McGongall announced.

The blond boy too a moment to stare at the Sorting Hat before holding his head up and waking to the stool. Once he sat and the Hat touched his head, it became clear it would be another long sorting. Would he end up in Hufflepuff as well?

"Why not? You are very loyal, lad." The Hat sounded exasperated. "Now you're just making my point!" It continued even as Draco's face turned a shade paler if that was at all possible with his milky white skin. "You sure? How should I know? You'll have to work on it, a lot you know? I'm serious, lad. You'll fit there better. If you're so determined, then fine. Better be, Slytherin!"

Draco jumped before McGongall could grab the Sorting Hat, pumped a fist in the air and whooped in joy. His relief and happiness at the sorting was almost blinding as he skipped towards Slytherin table to loud applause.

"Potter, Harry." McGongall's tone held a lot of melancholy – the same emotions that came from her as Harry walked to his destiny. His head was held high and proud, his back was straight and he looked at the Hat. Behind him, the whole hall was deadly silent and everyone's eyes bore holes in his back.

He turned and sat, facing the student body with a blank mask plastered on his face, his Occlumency working on overdrive to contain his anger and resentment. What right did they have to judge him? Were they stuck in a cupboard for a decade? Were they worked and treated as slaves for as long as they could remember?! Damn them all!

"Well, well. What do we have here, Mr Potter." The Hat's voice echoed in his head, just like his Master's did when they communicated through their bond. "It has been a very long time since I saw something like this. Already an apprentice at this age, impressive. I can see the potential for greatness within you, Mr Potter. Slytherin will bring it forth, I know it. You can be great just like you desire, its all here in your head."

" _I know. And I will be just like my Master before me. I will make them proud."_

"I believe you will, Mr Potter. However, all this loyalty… you'll fit right in with Hufflepuff, just as your new friend Mr Malfoy would have."

" _Perhaps."_

"On the other hand, Slytherin does need you more, little snake. It is high time someone reminded them what the House of Salazar must stand for. You can be great, you know, and you can make them great as well."

Harry knew. His Master had hinted at the opportunities that the various Houses could bring once he graduated. There were many who would accept him for who and what he was in Slytherin, many who he would need if he decided to make Andromeda really proud and followed in Great Uncle Charlus' steps.

"I see, Mr Potter. I see indeed. Make them great again, lad. Better be, Slytherin!" There was no mistake this time, the Sorting Hat sounded very much pleased with itself, not to mention gleeful.

For the next few moments, the Great Hall continued to be utterly silent. There was enough fear and disappointment in there to be suffocating. Yet, the spell soon broke as it had to. It all started with a pair of boys clapping and cheering – Draco, who was still extremely pleased with how things turned out and Nott, who was much more subdued.

A third pair of hands joined them, this time coming from the Staff table, where a man in black robes with long greasy hair and a hooked nose was slowly clapping at him. The expression on his face was an unreadable mask. This had to be Severus Snape, his new Head of House.

That was more than enough for the rest of the Slytherins, who began clapping like an avalanche. As Harry stood and walked to his new home, he observed his new schoolmates. There was a lot of shock and pleased disbelief coming from some of them, others were angry and disdainful. There were at least a few who were afraid as well – probably children of Death Eaters who did really believe in the Blood Purity agenda.

Well, this was going to be interesting.

Harry didn't miss that just the Hufflepuffs led by Cedric, Hermione and the two minions in training along with a few Ravenclaws joined the applause. The rest – they continued to stare and mutter darkly.


	30. Interlude: Various 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.  
**

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: The Black Daughter**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Study**

 **Malfoy Manor**

 **unplottable location**

Ever since the war ended, Narcisca seldom found her husband brooding in the dark. It was even rarer to find him in his father's old study, sitting in Abraxas' old chair, reflecting on past choices and it was clear what he was doing – she had seen that expression on his face more than enough times.

"Lucius." she walked in silently – the tick carpet swallowed any sound that her soft sandals might have made otherwise.

"Wife." Lucius turned to look at her and put down the parchment he had been staring at with unfocused eyes.

"What really happened today in the Ministry? I heard all kinds of rumours from the usual suspects and this time they have a lot of common. More than enough for a grain of truth." Narcisca said and sat in one of the two comfortable couches in front of the desk.

"Our world changed, that's what happened." Lucius answered and rubbed his forehead. "I've done unspeakable things to safeguard our House, to keep us safe and in our rightful place in society. And now, everything we've done, everything we've endured might be for nothing. Veil walked in the Ministry with a Honour Guard of his Lord's soldiers, Harry Potter, his Apprentice and your sister and her family in tow. They met Dumbledore and Bones..." Lucius shared Narcisca's own wince at that proclamation. "And walked out without anyone daring to stop them. Did your father or grandfather tell you stories about Grindelwald and his war?" He suddenly changed the topic, which took Narcisca aback.

"Grandfather did a few times. He gather all of my generation to do it." The witch closed her eyes thinking back. "We thought that he was trying to justify the questionable course he charted for our House."

"An acceptance of the muggleborns, after all that they did during the war." Lucius nodded. "I remember father telling me the same, right in this study. That we had to make the mudbloods feel accepted enough that when someone else like that man arose, they wouldn't flock to his or her banner. He implied that the Triumvirate even had plans to make various creatures accepted, at lest in front of the law." Lucius grumbled. "It was sheer insanity, I believed. We were better – more powerful, better trained, of pure stock. Why should we fear them? They only existed to serve us. It was Grindelwald who was dangerous and Dumbledore destroyed him in the end."

"Yet, for all those fears and what they led grandfather, your father and Potter to do, there was no second Grindelwald. Just the Dark Lord and he had the same beliefs as us." Narcisca finished for her husband. "And he was powerful, the one man who could stand against Dumbledore and his destruction of our culture."

"That he was. We were so close and then..."

Even in the privacy and security of their own home they didn't say the truth aloud – that Voldemort went to kill a toddler and failed in such a spectacular fashion that after the resulting explosion there wasn't even a body left. While that kept many of his followers doubting that he was dead, something reinforced by the still existing Dark Mark on Lucius arm, there had been no trace of the man. Instead, there was a new Dark Lord rising, one with a very different agenda and ideas about what was proper and what wasn't.

"And now, father turns out to be right. He's laughing at us from the grave, Narcisca. I can almost feel it. Grindelwald's second coming, who would have thought it could happen after all those years? Well, he did show where he stands as far as Blood Purity is concerned, didn't he? His right hand has Harry Potter for Apprentice and is working with your sister and her family… Merlin damn him, from what I heard," He nodded at the parchment he had been holding when Narcisca entered, "Veil practically has them under his protection as well and that tells us all we need to know where his Lords stands."

"This is less than ideal development." Narcisca allowed. "We'll adapt and preserve as we always do, husband. Nothing less is acceptable. For our House and for our son."

Lucius winced at that. "Speaking about Draco…" He grimaced. "We'll have to take him in hand. What would have been acceptable before, well now it would paint both Draco and us in a negative light. Perhaps we'll have him attempt to befriend Potter when they go to Hogwarts…" Lucius thought aloud.

"First, we'll have to make clear to him that we might have been a bit overzealous in teaching him about his and ours place in the world."

At that Lucius looked like he just bit into a particularly bitter lemon.

"Just as long as he doesn't act like a mudblood lover. We are in a very dangerous situation. If the Dark Lord returns," Lucius rubbed his arm over the Dark Mark. "We'll be between the Dragon and the Chimera."

Narcisca gave her husband a pointed look, one that held another question neither of them dared ask aloud. If Voldemort came back and faced off against the new Dark Lord, who would prevail? Choosing wrong here would mean annihilation. Not making a choice, sooner or later they would be robbed of that luxury. It wasn't like they could approach Veil openly, not until they knew how powerful his Lord was, though all the indications were that for most intents and purposes it was enough to ruin them.

"Dobby." Narcisca said aloud.

"Missus Narcisca, Maám!" The Elf hurried to ask after popping into existence.

"Summon my son and make sure he is presentable. We'll speak with him in here."

The wretched creature nodded frantically and popped out of existence.

Lucius raised a well manicured eyebrow at that.

"You were the one who taught him how powerful, mighty and better than practically everyone else the House of Malfoy is. For the time being, I'll let you run damage control." Her eyes gleamed with mirth she didn't bother disguise.

Lucius groaned and nodded. "Another bloody Grindelwald, Merlin damn him." He grumbled.

Meanwhile, Narcisca wondered if it would be a good idea to approach her estranged sister and if so, how to do it…

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: Call me Tonks!**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **a muggle bar**

 **somewhere in London**

There were situations when Tonks loved being a Metamorphmagus. A bit of shift here and there and she looked her mother's age, complete with a vague resemblance. With said face, no one would try checking her ID and she was freely able to go get drunk in the muggle worlds – no overt magic, no one who could recognize her if she went on a pug-crawl in the magical world, it was great.

The muggle whiskey was good too. Tonks drained her glass and waved to the barman to pour her another one. Once she had her next drink and paid for it, the witch simply stared at the amber liquid and let her head move with the beat of the music. Until just a few days ago she used to have plans for the future, goals. She knew what she wanted, what she had to prove to the world and herself. Now, however? Tonks was simply drifting. She was no longer reliable nor trustworthy, because of events outside her control. Just like she didn't decide to be a shape-shifter, nor did she choose her mum's family… Yet, here she was, drinking in a bar because she didn't know what to do with herself!

The only choice she got to make was how to terminate her relationship with the DMLE. Morgana, what a mess!

No matter what she did, Tonks couldn't even prove that her family wasn't like the crazy Blacks, because the best she could say about her parents was that they were working with a Dark Wizard, and an adorable little cousin who was training to be one!

Tonks glared at her drink and drained half of it in one go. At least it went down good and smooth with the burning spreading warmth through her.

What was she supposed to do now? How could she prove that she wasn't a Dark Witch? That she wasn't going to go insane like aunt Bella and well, evil? She was a good person, damn it! She was a cuddly Hufflepuff!

"Bad day?" A throaty female voice asked, one that held just a hint from a foreign accent.

Tonks looked away from her drink and her eyes widened when she saw what could only be either a Veela or half-Veela sitting on the seat to her right. From the silver practically glowing hair, to the spotless skin and entrancing eyes… The witch looked around and saw that no one, especially the men were paying them any attention. Notice-me-not and excellent control over the allure then.

"Who are you and why are you here?" Tonks suspiciously asked.

"The boss did promise that your family will be protected once it became public that they're in our camp. I'm merely making sure no one takes advantage of you, besides you look like you could use someone to talk with." The older woman, if she was older because it was very hard to judge a Veela's age – if anything they were as bad as Metamorphmagi, smiled pleasantly at her.

"So now I rate my own bodyguard as if I can't take care of myself." Tonks grumbled and finished her third drink before waving to the bartender for another.

"If you smash a few more of those, that will be the case for sure. So tell me, Ms Tonks, why are we drinking tonight?" The stranger asked. When the bartender came, she ordered one of the same for herself as well.

"As if you care." Tonks grumbled.

"If I was really disinterested, I would have just watched from a distance and fried anyone who might try to take advantage of you." The Veela shrugged.

What the hell, why not? Perhaps it was the drinks, perhaps it was the obvious charisma of the woman, which certainly went far beyond her looks, which by the way were enough to make Tonks a bit jealous. It would have been much more if she couldn't look exactly like she wanted. So she did spill, eventually. It took three more drinks and by the end, the Metamorphmagus felt really tipsy but by no means drunk! She could hold her liquor, she really could!

"Well, them's the breaks girl." The Veela commiserated. "At least you do have better options than many."

"Said the woman who can have any man who she wants. Why are you playing bodyguard anyway?"

"Because I have more aspirations than being just someone's sex toy. Besides, have you seen Ulfric's boys? They're all yummy." The Veela who still hadn't introduced herself properly licked her lips.

"Hmm… the muscles and their blond..."

"Yeah..." The other woman agreed then frowned at Tonks. "I think that it might be better to get you home so you can sleep this off. If you're interested, we do have a job offer for you."

"I accept, I prove them all right. A Black spawn, a Dark Witch..." Tonks muttered.

"Why do you care what fools think? Why does it matter? Be yourself, that's what's important. If you can look yourself in the mirror, if you can face your parents with your head held high, then what's the problem if you are a Dark Witch or not? Why would it matter then?"

"It does!" Tonks grumbled. When she saw a disbelieving expression on the Veela's face, she frowned. "It really does! I always waned to be one of the good guys! To be a great witch, you know?"

"Me too sweetie, me too. And you can be. We can help you achieve your potential. However, now I'm bringing you home to sleep this off. We'll talk again tomorrow, I think."

Tonks didn't have the strength nor will to struggle when the Veela took her right arm, placed it over her shoulder and led her outside. "We're going to Apparate, brace yourself." What followed what a pure slice of hell that left Tonks on her knee vomiting when they found themselves back on steady ground. A flash of magic vanished the mess and the Veela helped her to her unsteady feet. Tonks muttered a thanks and it finally dawned to her that she was at a very familiar place.

"Nymphadora!" Mum's scandalized voice clinched it, this wasn't a drunken hallucination, which was a pity. Tomorrow she was going to regret tonight's escapades.

"One count of daughter, safely delivered, Mrs Tonks. Have a good night." The Veela said and Apparated away.


	31. Chapter 10 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Don't poke a sleeping Sith**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **8 June 1988**

 **Paris**

 **France**

It was late in the evening, a summer storm raked the whole city keeping people generally inside and apparently, it was a perfect time for an assassination or kidnapping – the jury was still out on that one. Heavy raindrops slammed into the windows of my hotel room, lighting forked through heavy overcast clouds and if it rained acid, I could almost imagine being back on Dromund Kaas. Well, not quite – it was much too cool and pleasant even in the summer for such a comparison.

"Four men, one local, three from the Middle East. At least one woman either disguised as hotel cleaner or they have one on the payroll." Ignatius reported. A few expensive enhanced necklaces provided communications and while decidedly short ranged compared to what I was accustomed with, they were equal or superior to what most government around here could give their special forces. They were worth every knut as well.

"Let them make the first move, unless we absolutely have to, we won't use flashy magic. The female is likely the staff – this is the same place I met the prince last month when I declined his first offer. He didn't take tonight's refusal as well." Said royal bastard had the top two floors of the hotel taken by his court – a lot of guards, a few of his wives and a bunch of high end escorts, so much for him trying to present himself as a pious Muslim back in Saudi Arabia.

I knew that once I revealed my first major invention – the room-temperature super-conductor, it would cause waves. While it would be some time before we could build factories and license the patents to various other corporations, so it would start making real money, the implications weren't lost on my competitors and potential clients, especially once I hinted that my corporation was working on practical fusion, which was finally possible thanks to said super-conductor. Over the past few months, after going public and proving that not only I had the product but a way to produce it in practical quantities even if for the time being it was quite slow and very expensive, I couldn't duck to the fresher without being accosted by corporate and government representatives. Not to mention the odd lobbyist who came either to try to buy me off as well or to offer their services because they smelled money.

As it turned out, I did in fact underestimate both the scrutiny and headaches that would come with my plan to uplift this bloody dirt-ball. It took a month before people saw all the future implications and the attempts to buy me off in order to keep the status quo and not push with the next step of my plan began – orders of magnitude better batteries and power cells, fusion, electric cars and trucks… which would reshape the world by themselves even if they were merely another stepping stone for me and a way to finance the next step, which was going to be even more expensive. The only reason I was able to get this far this fast was thanks to my new friends in the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic, who were making tons of galleons from my businesses in the magical world.

I naturally refused to be bought, which led to amusing attempts to threaten me – few of them were even very polite and so heavy on the double talk that I wasn't a hundred percent sure what exactly they wanted from me. It was then that the kidnapping and assassination attempts started – though to give credit where credit's due, first there were attempts for infiltration and sabotage of my corporate HQ in Europe and the factories here in France and the US. Magic and loyal security – most of whom were well trained werewolves, fended off those. So far anyway.

This was going to be the fifth attempt to either grab or kill me so far and the most public and open to date. Perhaps, it was high time to make an example. Was it mere arrogance on the Prince's side that made him think that he could get away with it while he was in the same bloody hotel as me and my people or did he have things go his way for so long that he didn't even think that he might have bitten more than he can chew?

This was going to be another damn headache that I didn't need. At noon I would be meeting officials from the French government to discuss contracts and building more factories on their soil not to mention the hints that I should talk with one of their local car manufacturers…

Enough distractions. On the bright side, it was time for some stress relief. "Ignatius, I'll take care of the first four. Suit and arm up, we'll go visit the Prince to make my displeasure known. Get your people to handle the security systems, I don't want any recordings or pictures slipping away." I ordered and took off my tie.

"Spells in place, the corridor outside is dark. Four hostiles approaching your location, ETA one minute. I'm moving on the hotel security centre, will advise when all cameras are down. Team two is ensuring no outside observation of the top floors." Vance reported.

"Good man." I took the frustration I've been feeling lately and used it as fuel. The Dark Side eagerly manifested around and within me enhancing my body. I could clearly sense the four approaching and their intentions – they were sure of themselves, professional even. They reached my door, one took out a pass card while a second drew a taser. Another produced a syringe with some kind of knock-out drug and the last – a collapsible baton. By all means, this should have been an overkill against some uppity scientist without combat training or experience, especially when as far as anyone was concerned, I was back to going around with a single bodyguard – Vance. Really, it wasn't their fault that the two strike teams on overwatch were all wizards and witches who tended to stay invisible under a ton of notice-me-not charms to boot.

The door clicked open and goon number one pushed it in before stepping back, drawing a silenced gun and taking an overwatch position while the other three rushed in, led by the man with the taser. He saw me, took aim and shot sending the two metal prongs at my chest. To his astonishment, I shopped them cold more than a meter in front of me before I returned them with a thought. He didn't have time to even voice his surprise when the taser bit in his flesh and he knocked himself out.

I could see both see and feel the surprise of goon number two, who nevertheless vaulted over the twitching body of his comrade and came at me with the baton. A bit of creative use of the Force and a swing that should have connected with my temple and likely knocked me out, received more power and momentum. The man's shoulder joint popped out and he barely had enough time to let out a strangled gasp before he struck himself in the crotch with bone-breaking force. Bone indeed cracked audibly, his eyes popped out and he let out a whimper before I passed him by and delivered a Force enhanced strike to his throat that pulverized his trachea and left him choking on the ground.

Number three lunged at me and ended with a depressed syringe in his neck. Whatever was inside, it was potent. The goon's eyes rolled up and he was out before he could hit the ground. That only left number four who barely had enough time to figure out that something just went terribly wrong before I was on him. I crushed his gun with the Force and while he stared at the lump of metal in his hand I kicked him in the knee with more than enough force to shatter it and as he went down, I knocked him out with a strike to the head.

Number five – a small older woman wearing a maid uniform and pushing a cart with dirty clothes came around the corner. Her eyes widened and she opened her mouth to scream – that didn't work too well for her. I grasped her with the Force and the scream died in her chest as I constricted it. Soon she lost conscience and I threw her within the cart, pulled them both to me and dumped goon number four on top of the woman before pushing the cart into my room, dumping the rest of the trash inside and making sure no one still alive would awake anytime soon.

Well, that was cathartic. Now to go visit the Prince and make my displeasure most evident. I walked towards the elevator and Strike Team one fell in around me offering me a choice of gear – body armour, face mask and silenced sub-machine gun along with ammo.

"We'll make it look like a professional hit by someone with a grudge. No magic if we can help it. I'll be using my abilities, the French Ministry can't detect them. I'm taking point. We're going to kill everyone. Team Two will ensure no communications goes in or out as as well as keep this private."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **9 June 1988**

 **Paris**

 **France**

Inspector Beson had seen some gruesome affairs in his ten years of service in the Gendarme, however what he witnessed that summer morning easily entered top five and that was just the first room of the crime scene. Someone had the gall to turn two top floors of one of the oldest, most expensive and prestigious hotels in Paris into a bloodbath. As if that wasn't bad enough, which was hard to top when they had over a hundred casualties to deal with, the victims were among the retinue of a Saudi Prince, one of the wealthiest ones and to top it all, he was rumoured to be a big shaker and mover within the Kingdom's government. That in turn meant that sooner rather than later, people from all French intelligence services would be crawling all over the place at least until one of them won the bureaucratic fight, or lost it, and took responsibility for the case on that front. Not to mention that people from the Foreign Ministry would be crawling up his ass as well, soon.

The inspector walked out of the elevator after checking his feet and hands – they were all securely covered by nylon, which was a very good thing in this case, no matter how generally unpleasant. Still, it was much better than the CIS people in their almost fully enclosed rubber suites. This morning, the Gendarme had to pull out all the stops and had its best people in the case, hopefully that was going to be enough and soon, because something like this – it couldn't be left unpunished.

The first casualties Beson saw were four bodyguards who were guarding the elevators. They all wore expensive suits, two had well groomed beards and only one of them had been fast enough to grab his holstered machine-pistol before a three bullet burst ventilated his brain. He also had a surprised expression on his face, which put him as more competent or lucky than the other three who appeared to have died without even understanding what hit them. They were also shot centre mass before the assailants put a burst in their heads for good measure.

The Inspector continued to walk through the crime-scene. The next casualties were the security at the stairs, who were also assassinated before they knew what hit them – more shots from close range, upper torso and in the head. It only went worse from there. At least ten more guards and servants were executed before anyone knew there was an ongoing attack and that went on until the assailants hit one of the larger dinning rooms on the floor, where a group of off duty bodyguards were relaxing, complete with strippers and hookers. Beson walked inside, ignoring the chatter from the policemen securing the place and the methodical and mostly silent work of the CIS techs. His own team was still on the way or in the building coordinating interrogations and trying to figure out when and how the security system got compromised – there were no calls for help, no one saw anything on the cameras, which went off before the attack began… The hit looked damn professional if very brutal and it wasn't the work of a few well trained gunmen. To go in and out undetected and apparently slaughter about a hundred people spread through two floors of the hotel… That was the work of at least two or three full squads of well trained, supplied and supported special forces. Unless they were French and no one bothered to tell Beson, that implied a chilling security breach on top of everything else. Who was responsible for this then? The Americans or the Soviets? He looked around the dinner room turned into a makeshift strip-bar. It had been breached from two sides, probably after the assassins converged on it after clearing the stairways, and they proceeded to mow down everyone – both the girls and off duty security. Fifteen men and women were slaughtered in this room alone and it looked like only two of the girls had lasted long enough to try and run.

It only got worse from there on…

Couple of hours later and too many bodies to count, all shot, sometimes repeatedly, Beson found the Prince or what was left from him. By the time the attackers had reached this point, what was left of the bodyguards knew what was coming. It was curious that they hadn't tried to escape but instead barricaded themselves for a last stand – which by the looks of it merely bought them seconds. The Prince himself he found in the bathroom hiding in the tub. Well, most of him – the head was missing and it was neatly severed, possibly a machete or something nasty in that vein.

"What a fucking mess..." Beson cursed. There was going to be a hell to pay for this.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: The writing upon the wall**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Royal Palace**

 **Saudi Arabia**

The King, his principal advisers and a few of his most reliable sons gathered to discus a new development that threatened the stability and prosperity of the Kingdom. They exchanged the customary greetings formalities, before sitting in comfortable leather chairs and getting to the meat of the meeting.

"You have all read the reports and seen the news?" The King asked.

It has been less than a week since the Exposition in California and all the news could talk about was the new sensation – Mandal Technologies, its CEO and primary researcher, some Brit called Dimitri Veil and what they unveiled. That was bad enough in the long run, as many reporters kept speculating for days now. It was what else that man was working on – something that thankfully so far has been a pipe dream, practical fusion.

Everyone answered in the positive, though only a few didn't take the opportunity to display how displeased they were by recent developments.

"While we all know that one day oil will in fact run out," The King continued, "it won't happen for decades and even then, we'll have the assets to do something about it. However, we all know of the various issues gasping the Kingdom – many of our own people are kept docile enough by the stipends we so generously give them and we all know how many radicals would love nothing more than to have us replaced and murdered publicly. The truth is that it will be long years, decades at best before we can change the Kingdom so it can function without oil revenues. Its whole society will have to change and unless given enough time, that change will be violent and will likely kill us all if we don't flee." The King continued. "This man, Veil and what he has created – they're threats. If he succeeds in offering working fusion to the world, oil prices will crash to all time low long before our black gold becomes less than useful."

"We're already feeling it. Uncertainty and expectations are bringing prices down. We'll might have to lobby for reduced production on the next OPEC meeting if not call an emergency one if this trend keeps." One of the trusted economic advisers pointed out.

"Just kill him and be over with." One of the Princes sneered.

"Bribe him, see if we can make use of whatever else he's working on." Another suggested. "If he refuses the Kingdom's generosity, we might have to acquire his services another way."

"Bribe, threats, find a way to blackmail or simply kill him." A third Prince suggested. "It's not like we're the only ones that man threatens. It might be for the best if one of us approaches him. There aren't many who can offer as much as we can, both money and other benefits."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Conference room**

 **California**

The board of directors of one of the largest tech giants in the United States gathered to discuss the expo they partially funded and the unexpected developments that it brought to light.

"How is this the first time we hear about that man and his work? Where did he come from?" The CEO asked.

"I've got my best people looking into him, this Mandal Technologies and everyone of note working with of for them. Obviously, he's a European and that's where we're aiming our efforts. It might be a government supported research that they chose to make public this way. Perhaps the French?"

"There hasn't been anything from Veil published in a reputable scientific journal that I know of." The head of Research and Development added. "Whoever he has working with him, they've keeping it very hush-hush or like him, its no one who have made a name for themselves until now."

"Enough. We'll figure it out. What I want to hear are the implications of this super-conductor of his. How useful is it, how practical is to manufacture? How is it going to affect our bottom line?" Another director asked.

"Extremely useful, if expensive. The claims about the production process paint it as rather slow, however as economy of scale enter the picture, said price will eventually fall somewhat. I can't give you precise numbers at this juncture, however I have my people looking into matters. As far as technological implications, its going to change the world. First and most obvious – power transmission and storage. Batteries, power cells, what have you as well – those just got made obsolete or will be the moment we've get designs incorporating it. If implemented at large through the power-grid, it will be godsend – minimal to no loss of energy during transmission for example. A direct benefit for us in California would be a cease of the blackouts if the grid is upgraded. It would be able to handle much larger load as well."

"Even if Veil's fusion reactor turns out a pipe dream, which is by no means sure, he already has a critical component that is a game-changer in that field as well, in the long run you can forget about fossil fuels mattering as far as transportation go. Electrical trains, boats, cars – all viable, clean and once the infrastructure is in place, cheaper to run, possibly to maintain as well and that's just on the top of my head."

"Speaking as a researcher first and foremost, the benefits for R&D will be tremendous."

"Electronics – our new plants possibly just got obsolete or will be if and when it becomes practical to replace all wires in circuits. Power loss and heating will fall off dramatically, everything will become at least an order of magnitude more efficient, which feeds back into transportation. As already mentioned, with a viable super-conductor, its a matter of time when someone cracks nuclear fusion and if Veil and his corporation manage it, they will have even more of a license to print money. Just what he already patented will reshape the world and with revolution come all kinds of problems no matter how beneficial it might be in the end."

"We're already seeing fluctuations of oil prices and the media hasn't yet fully grasped the implications. We need to buy out Mandal Technologies, yesterday. Our competitors would have the same idea. Barring that, we need access to their secrets – either in partnership or through different means. If we aren't on the ball, in ten years, Veil and his people will have our jobs, perhaps sooner and that is unacceptable."


	32. Chapter 10 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Don't poke a sleeping Sith**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Tubor's ingredients farm**

 **Transylvania**

 **Romania**

Two days passed since Tubor reluctantly agreed to work for me. We spent most of the time adding a few more charms and enchantments to the protections around the place and waiting to hear from Varshenska; the first thing I did once all the locals finished bowing, scrapping and swearing into my service was to write her about the change in management and inquire who might come knocking as a result.

On the third night, we received visitors. It was a cloudy, there was no moon – a perfect time for night hunters like vampires to come knocking. After their party at the nearby village vanished, the bloodsuckers were much more cautious this time around. They had at least one wizard in their ranks as well and were determined to play it safe and smart. It might have even worked, if I wasn't around. I sensed their arrival beyond the protected perimeter, gave a sign to Ignatius who sat nearby reading and waited to see what our guests would do next.

I wasn't disappointed. The temperature made a sudden drop to far below freezing, the shadows came alive in ghostly moaning forms and quiet, barely there whispering could be heard all around us. That was nice bit of illusion magic – ideal to confuse and disorient the enemy, giving the leeches a better chance to pick their victims one by one.

Magic flared and someone began to chant – an obvious attempt to bring down the protections, daring Tubor and his people to get out into the illusions to prevent a breach.

I recast the disillusioning and muffling charms on myself, then reinforced them with the Force by wrapping its around myself, erasing my presence and making sure that even modern sensors wouldn't be able to find a trace of me before walking towards the waiting trap. Vance did the same, creeping to flank them from the other side.

It turned out, that there were two vampire-wizards, complete with wands, a make-shift rune circle made by enchanted stones they had prepared and brought with them with the other three staying hidden up in the trees waiting to jump anyone dumb enough to come and interrupt the ritual.

They were almost invisible up there, possibly had a charm cast to prevent most kinds of magical detection too, which was futile – I didn't rely on magic to locate them. I did use magic to take out the closest one however. A prancing charm had the tree he hid on come alive and gnarled branches grabbed him from all sides. The Vampire had just enough time to exclaim in surprise before I slammed him with the Force into the trunk hard enough to shatter the bark and some branches before pumping more magic into the charm and forcing the animated wood to bury itself in undead flesh. The leech screamed like a banshee before convulsing a few times and going still. Nevertheless, I left the charm active with orders to carry on and headed for target number two.

Meanwhile, bright fire lit up the forest to my right and even more haunting screeches came from that direction. Vance had decided that the napalm needed move field testing then.

The third ambusher jumped from his perch and dashed towards the wizards. His head snapped every which way, scared eyes searching for the threat. He passed nearby, close enough that I could see his nose twitch as he tried to sniff us.

The Vampire failed and when he was past with his back turned to me, I took a hold of him with telekinesis and neatly removed his head with an overpowered slicing charm. While there were a lot of good things to be said for dark magic in general and the Dark Arts in particular, people often tended to forget that even perfectly mundane spells could be very deadly. The cutting charm for example was intended to well, cut – bread, vegetables, weeds for those inclined to gardening or raising potion ingredients… Put enough power into it and it was perfectly able to cut off appendages at close range. Plus, it was simple and fast to cast.

I walked past the second corpse and focused on Vance – my first and so far most competent minion was in position overlooking the Vampire mages. They were chanting more frantically – whatever ritual they were in the middle of, apparently wasn't one they dared interrupt if there was any chance to finish it before we were upon them. Or perhaps they were that confident in the rune circle around them. I hadn't seen the likes of it before, for all I knew, they might even have a point.

"Let's put it to the test..." I muttered to myself. There were a lot of dark magics I knew thanks to my memories of graduating Drumstang, though a lot of them were strictly theoretical, primary for practical reasons. I pointed my wand at the rune-circle and the Vampires within. I uttered the necessary words in mangled Latin and did the complicated wand motions while channelling a significant amount of magic. "Fiendfyre." I ended the incantation and the effects were dramatic.

A wave of light and heat exploded from the tip of my wand, it was like staring at a newborn star, it was that intense. The mere proximity should have rendered me a charred ruin, yet there I stood, the literal fires of hell at my fingertips. A heartbeat passed and then I could feel the magic itself, there was a presence within the fire, something hungry and malevolent, it railed against my control, psychic claws fought for purchase against my mental fortress.

The Vampires shook, their chanting wavering before becoming even more frantic. I pushed my mind against whatever was in the fire and flicked my wand at the rune-circle. Liquid fire came from it, grew and took shape. Within a moment, a large, spiky Tuk'ata Alpha stood on the frozen ground, vaporizing snow and leaving melted craters where its clawed paws found purchase. It roared in fury and defiance before it sprinted at the Vampires leaving an inferno behind. The trees around us took burst into flame with the sheer proximity and the closest one simply shattered in a fiery rain from the sudden temperature change.

The Tuk'ata slammed into the circle and collapsed into a sea of hell around a bright magical shield. It fought to get away from my control every step of the way, screamed and railed at the futility of its efforts – I had its mind or whatever passed for it in a durasteel grip and didn't intent to let go. The beast reformed from the molten ground around the shield, roared in defiance and pounced upon it again. Claws scrapped on the surface and found purchase before it bit into the energy field and tried to tear it.

A felt danger coming through the Force and stepped away just in time for a flash of green to pass by. The chanting ceased, a Vampire screamed in agony and the shield collapsed. The Tuk'ata fell into the circle and the bloodsuckers didn't even have time to scream again before it turned them to ash. The beast reformed for a third time and glared at me. I let the charms and Force cloak covering me fade away and glared right back before crushing its awareness and mad instincts. The fire construct recoiled as if struck as I began the counter-curse. The Tuk'ata roared in fury at being denied more victims and most importantly, a chance to burn me to ash and collapsed in fast dying flames. Very soon, all that was left from the Fiendfyre was the heavy sense of dark magic and the cursed ground, melted to glass.

"A most impressive curse." I had to admit, reading about it and hearing stories of what it can do, well those paled in comparison to the real thing.

I looked around at the burning wood. "That can be a spot of trouble." I frowned. "Vance, we're on firefighter duty it seems."

"That's your fault, sire." My minion came to my side after pointedly avoiding the cursed and still glowing ground.

It wasn't that bad – after that night's display, the odds of Tubor and company betraying me of their own will went far below zero. When it was all over and they finally came out, there was a lot of awe and fear, even more bowing and scraping all in order to not piss me off. It was both irritating and nostalgic. At least when ordered they promptly joined us in dousing the forest fire and policing the tiny battlefield if you can call it that with straight face.

We had a pair of vampire corpses to investigate as well, though one was rather scorched by the forest fire. Another plus – just before noon, I got response from Varshenska, delivered by a House Elf. It seems that my little escapade had been detected and both impressed and scared the people in the Bulgarian Ministry. I had to expect an Auror Task Force to come and investigate. Well, then it was time for a public debut of my Dark Lord alter ego.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Tubor's ingredients farm**

 **Transylvania**

 **Romania**

A crescendo of rapid-fire cracks echoed through the frozen wood late in the afternoon heralding the arrival of two full Auror squads, an ICW Chief Investigator and her two man security detail. They wasted no time and spread around to make themselves harder to take out en mass and warily looked around, wands drawn. The feeling of dark magic was strong and oppressive, for those experienced with it, it the source was unmistakable even before they laid eyes on the charred trees and brutalized ground.

"Yaga's tits, the grid was right, Fiendfyre!" One of the Bulgarian Aurors cursed.

"Contact, left!" Another one shouted and like a clockwork, half the Aurors turned in that direction, leaning forward to become smaller targets and going for the nearest available cover, while the rest of them kept watch in case this was merely a feint.

"To what do we owe this pleasure?" A young man asked in lightly accented Russian and before he finished the sentence, the law enforcement officers aimed six wands at him.

"On your knees! Drop your wand!" An Auror captain barked an order.

"Why would I do that, Mr Auror?" He asked as if perplexed by the orders and the reasons behind them.

"You're detained for questioning because of the dark magic used here! Now comply or we'll have to use force!"

"This?" The man, who leaned on a more or less intact tree nodded at the devastated part of the forest to his left. "I can tell you all about it. That's why I'm here after all. You're late by the way. I expected you at least an hour ago. Very sloppy." The stranger had the gall to tell them how to do their jobs.

"Enough of this." Investigator Helga Loren barked. "I'll take it from here, Captain." She walked in between the Aurors covering the stranger, careful not to step in their firing lanes and her escort followed suit. "You don't seem particularly concerned, Mr…?"

"Veil, Dimitri Veil, from the Noble House of Veil, my Lady." The man gave her a proper Pureblood bow and finally she was able to place his accent – it was British with the hard pronunciation that many who went to Drumstang picked up after spending most of seven years speaking Russian. "May I have the honour of learning your name?"

"ICW Investigator Helga Loren, from the Ancient House of Loren." She asked automatically. "You said you were waiting for us?"

"I also said you were late. I might be British but this weather is a bit much even for me."

"Contact, right! There is at least one more over here!"

"That's my Master's servant, Ignatius Vance. He is here to keep an eye on me in case you overreact." Veil explained.

"Your Master?" Helga could hear the capital M in there. "He wouldn't happen to be your Lord as well?"

"In a matter of fact, he is." Veil smiled. "I hope you won't curse the messenger? My Master thought about speaking with you directly, however he deemed in unwise. He believes that if you were in the presence of the Dark Lord, you might overreact. Curses flying everywhere," Veil shook his head sadly, "That's not conductive to a civil conversation."

"And where is that Dark Lord of yours? You don't mean Voldemort, do you?"

"Oh, he is around, keeping and eye on things. I can assure you, I have never and would never follow that madman styling himself Lord Voldemort. I am prepared to take a vow and a three drops of Veritaserum to confirm it as well." Veil didn't bother hiding his disdain at the very idea.

Meanwhile, the Aurors were nervously looking around and casting detection spells. The implied threat that there was a Dark Lord around, the same one Helga was here to investigate, well it was natural they would be nervous. After all, many of them saw first hand the destruction he left in his wake back in Sofia.

"What is your relationship with the Dark Lord then?" Helga fished for more information. While everything she learned today would be dissected and discussed in depth and possibly flagged as a deliberate disinformation, she was duty bound to learn as much as possible, preferably before anyone decided that the time for talking was over and spells started flying.

"He is my Lord and Master, I am his Apprentice and have the honour of being chosen as his public face. My Lord Baras," Veil smirked at how a few Aurors flinched every time the man said Lord, "does have a few messages he wants relied."

"Does he now?" Helga asked. Her eyes flickered looking for the tell tale signs of an invisibility cloak or disillusioning charm, which could leave a trace unless whoever cast it had practised long and hard.

"For starters, this are, Mr Tubor's farms in particular and the nearby village in general are now under his protection. Lord Baras finds unacceptable that chaos continued to reign on the continent even decades after the fall of Lord Grindelwald and the vanquishing of the miserable excuse for a wizard, Voldemort. He intents to redress the wrongs he sees in our world. As he put it, he is burdened with a glorious purpose – to restore order, security and stability in Europe. He knows that there are people, some of those who stand before me among them, who had struggled long and hard to achieve that same purpose."

It wasn't as much the words themselves as the way Veil said, them, the utter conviction, honestly and how earnest he was that sent chills down Helga's spine. She didn't know about Baras, however this man, he had the charisma of Grindelwald himself. The Aurors had to know better, they know better, yet she could almost sense more than a few agreeing with his words and relaxed a fraction, making the atmosphere less tense.

"Does your Lord expect to achieve said order and security by burning forests with Fiendfyre?" Helga countered, reminding everyone why they were here.

"The forest, as frozen and cold as it is, hasn't offended my Lord Baras. The group of Vampires who decided to continue harassing Mr Tubor and his people did. A few days ago, I did send them a clear message of how bad an idea such a course of action would be. They, however failed to heed my words and my Master decided that it was a high time he made an example of them." The man theatrically waved at the slice of hell they came to investigate.

"A point indeed." One of the Auror snorted.

"I'm sure you have a good excuse for his actions in Sofia as well?" This was as good an admission as any and as long as the man wanted to give them more rope to hang this Baras, Helga was willing to listen.

"But of course! Do you take my Lord for a common madman like Voldemort?" Veil sneered.

It wasn't lost on Helga what Veil was doing. By distancing himself and his Lord from Voldemort, by playing up their desire for order and security, they were going to win a lot of points on the continent, especially in Central and some parts of Eastern Europe.

"Certain parties were allowed to harass poor Veelas for too long. We are not blind for the issues the Bulgarian Ministry has under Kniajev and his puppet master Gorski. We found the way the Bulgarian Auror department has closed its eyes for certain injustices unacceptable so we acted. We were the ones to answer the bounty put up by the Pirin Veela sanctuary and dealt with the werewolves harassing them… after capturing and interrogating a number of the outlaws. My Master doesn't believe in merely treating the symptoms of the disease. That's why he first hunted down, captured and interrogated Ivan Kolev, the pack leader of the weres staling the sanctuary. He followed the trail to Igor Cherni and from him, to Stephan Ivanov. It was Ivanov's nest in Sofia that my Master burned to the ground before retrieving the man to make his displeasure felt in person." The matter of fact delivery somehow made it more chilling than the usual threats and bluster sent by Dark Wizards.

"Let see if I got this straight. So far, your Lord is guilty of at least three counts of assault, kidnapping, torture and murder, on top of all people who he murdered at the vampire nest, the muggles as collateral damage and arguably worst – he nearly shattered the Statute of Secrecy!"

"Lord Baras believes that when allowed by people like Gorski and your Minister, the Bulgarian Aurors are reasonably competent at worst. You were able to contain any and all spills in Sofia, were you not?" Veil shrugged.

"In view of what you've admitted to, we'll need to take you into custody for interrogation." Helga proclaimed.

"In view of Gorski having too much say in what happens within the Bulgarian Ministry, I'll have to respectfully decline."

"We'll have to insist, boy!" An Auror fired back.

"Don't get me wrong, I won't resist. Doing so would be illegal after all..." Veil trailed off. "If we were still in Bulgarian territory. It is my Lord you'll have to deal with if you try to unlawfully detain me."

The temperature felt like a rock and for a moment, Helga was sure that Veil's Lord had brought Dementors. Instead, all the shadows in the forest became deeper and suddenly, a tall, bulky figure wearing a familiar mask materialized between them and Veil, who merely raised his arms in 'what can you do' gesture.

"I really hoped you would be reasonable, Aurors. You will not lay a hand on my Apprentice." Baras thundered, and this had to be him – the feeling of darkness, cold and wrongness, it was almost like that from a Dementor making Helga wonder what in Merlin's name did that man do to himself.

The Aurors were veterans, a few of the oldest one fought in Grindelwald's war, many others faced off blood purists made bold by Voldemort's rise. They acted as a team and unleashed a hail of stunners, piercing charms and blasting curse at the Dark Lord. Helga cursed and followed their lead, hoping that they get lucky and take out the threat. If not, that then they might escape with their lives. One provoked a Dark Lord at their own peril.

Baras raised an arm at the onslaught and two dozen spells sent in half as many seconds froze in mid air in front of him. The air separating the two groups looked like glass or a frozen, clear crystal.

The shock that feat of impossible magic inflicted lasted just a few moments and that was enough. The Dark Lord made a grasping motion and everyone's wands jolted out of their grasps as if overpowered Expelminatus struck them all at the same time.

The second Auror team was busy exchanging spell-fire with a cloaked wizards who kept his distance and was content to merely act as a distraction.

"That's quite enough!" Baras' voice thundered and wizards and witches scrambling for cover found themselves frozen, bound by invisible force. Just like Helga, the moment the Aurors lost their wands, they dove for cover and the ones prepared enough, went for their backup wands, for all the good it did.

At leat whatever held them took the brunt from striking the frozen ground hard.

"I hoped that you would listen to my Apprentice, Aurors! You are not my enemy, nor is your Ministry neither your country! I have no issue with your loved ones. It is people like Ivan Gorski who offend me! It is the various outlaws who had kept our home, Europe in a state of chaos for decades now, I despise! It is the fools who leave no choice to Veelas, Werewolves and other _people_ no alternative but to hide, seclude themselves and often seek crime as the only alternative they have left to make a living!" Baras exclaimed.

Helga was wrong. While Veil was good, the way the Dark Lord spoke, the way his very presence inspired awe, fear and demanded respect… She gulped. Helga had seen memories from Grindelwald giving speeches and this was every bit as bad!

"It is the fools who claim mere blood gives them the right to oppress muggles and muggleborns, that I can not stand! They are my only enemies. I ask of you, no I beg of you, good wizards and witches, do not join that wretched number! You are better than them, I know it, you know it as well!" He paused and gave them an intent look that they all felt through the face-covering mask. "Go now. You are free to leave peacefully. However, keep this in mind – the people here are under my protection. I won't tolerate any reprisals against those under my aegis. Any harm that befalls them, I'll return tenfold, to those responsible and those who stood by them and allowed such an injustice to pass." Baras proclaimed, gave Veil a nod and then vanished in a swirl of black smoke.

"Don't say I didn't warn you." The young man grimaced. "Did you have to provoke my Master? He's been in a bad mood ever since those leeches decided to test his resolve last night." He shook his head, raised an arm and nine wands rose from the forest behind him, demonstrating that he had learned at least some wandless magic from Baras.

That one had to be watched, if practical removed, Helga thought. He was young, just out or school and could already do this. What could he achieve after few more years as a Dark Lord's Apprentice? The very idea was chilling.

Whatever held them in place dissipated and the Aurors got to their feet, those who hadn't frozen in awkward position only to fall on the ground. The second team had ceased fire when the Dark Lord appeared and still had their wands in hand, however none of them appeared willing, much less eager to continue. For all they knew, Baras was still around, daring them to give him a reason to make an example.

"We're leaving. We'll be in touch, Mr Veil." Helga said. She took her wand, cast a clearing charm on herself and nodded to her guards. As one, they Apparated away, leaving the Aurors behind. She hoped that they would be reasonable and follow her example.

This was one Merlin damned report she had to write.


	33. Chapter 10 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 10: Don't poke a sleeping Sith**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Auror Office**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

The large debriefing room was deadly silent. Fully half of Director Malinova's Aurors sat on hard, straight-backed chairs and intently watched a second projection of the events that afternoon. Two teams of her people, some of her best, and the Dark Lord handled them like unruly children. If it wasn't for the ancient and heavy enchanted pensieve and the fact that every single Auror that returned received an extensive check from qualified Mind-Healers, Lydia would have found the memories hard to believe.

No, it wasn't like that. She _didn't_ want to believe what she saw, what her people experienced. The Dark Lords previous exploits were bad enough, now having a confession that came from the man's Apprentice, yet another headache for everyone involved, it was worse. The DMLE had it in the clear – an admission of guilt, more than enough to arrest the bastard, even his manifesto from his own lips…

"Mistakes were made..." The senior Auror Captain who presided over the disaster, whispered as he watched himself and his team lose their wands as if they were fresh first year students facing veteran Aurors themselves!

He was right, Lydia had to admit. She should have sent more people, they in turn should have approached more carefully, attacked faster, in larger numbers… and it might have not mattered at all or worse, got her people killed for nothing.

That display of power, the whole meeting, it was suspect. Of course it was, the Dark Lord chose to meet them publicly for the first time, to reveal himself and his agenda and that had to be staged for best impact. It as most concerning that he chose such an audience, her Aurors no less! There were already rumours flying, the Director knew about the ICW investigator and her group who accompanied her people and were in fact the reason for the delay, they would be filling up their own reports and knowing the ICW, the odds were great that said memos would leak too. They were secrets of course, which meant the whole Bulgarian Ministry was already abuzz with speculation and the ICW would soon follow suit.

At least she could admit in the privacy of her mind that there was a tiny silver lining to the disaster – Veil did name his immediate target and that couldn't have happened to be a more deserving bastard. If there was any justice in the world, the Dark Lord and Gorski would kill each other and put themselves out of everyone's misery. Unfortunately, Lydia learned long ago not to expect such divine gifts.

The projection cut off when Malinova's Aurors Apparated away, in other words, ran after facing off and losing against a superior enemy.

"Let's recap the latest disaster," She stood up and turned to face her subordinates. "and lets not lie to ourselves, that was nothing less than a full fledged disaster. On the safe side, we'll need at least three full Auror squads to go after the Dark Lord himself, provided that what we've seen to date is the best he can do." Lydia paused to let it sink. "At least two more to cover them and stall any minions he has. The last wizard who required this kind of response was Voldemort and he was more than capable of not only holding his own against such odds but win. Grindelwald was much worse as we all know and after today, I'm inclined to err on the side of caution. Mihail, I want you and your people scouring the archives – I want the names and everything we have for any notable follower of Grindelwald who isn't confirmed dead or in prison. The manifesto he spouted is too similar to that madman, all that is missing is promises to take over the muggle world as well and they can very well come once he begins to openly gather more followers." Lydia continued issuing orders, including one for her people to keep their mouths shut, for what little it was going to do.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Veela's Delight Restaurant**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

There were a few public places in the capital where wizards and witches could meet for a drink and food while enjoying private conversations. The Veela's Delight, which ironically no longer had a single of their kind among the staff or even management, was one such place. Having a table reserved to you on its second floor that overlooked the largest park in the city was a status symbol. You need to be famous, powerful and rich to be allowed to even approach the exclusive lounge as a guest. Ancient and powerful enchantments ensured privacy of conversation and if so desired, anonymity.

The restaurant itself was by no means a unique concept, the likes of which had existed for at least two thousand years in the magical world, places where the Pureblood elites could mingle among the best of their kind and enjoy the fruits of their labour. It was an almost universal cultural quirk in fact, one that was often very useful for the people actually running the magical world in the first place.

No one was surprised that Silvia Varshenska arrived for lunch – she did so at least twice every week using the opportunity to enjoy the finest foods and drinks while mingling with allies, friends and those vying for her attention. That particular afternoon, she graciously sat on the table of Nikolai Sabrev, the Director of the Bulgarian's Ministry Foreign Office. He was a few years younger than Silvia, an ally and it wouldn't be a stretch to call him a friend. He was also one of the few people in a similar position that didn't try to get her in his bed on account that he was a wizard's wizard as it was popularly called these days and proud of it. The bear like man stood greeted her jovially, they exchanged the expected greetings and pleasantries until Silvia's food and wine arrived and once the impeccably dressed and behaved waiter moved away so the enchantments could fall around them in full power, they could finally get to the point.

Needless to say, there was very little coincidence in that particular meeting.

"Silvie, the Ministry is on fire and I'm not sure if it would be better or worse if I was literal." Nikolai began after taking a sip from the blood-wine he favoured. "We had all kinds of nonsense rumours flying around the place for a day before Malinova briefed us all. What do you know about the Dark Lord?" He cast straight and true.

"I haven't met the man himself." Silvia confided and took a hold of her tall wineglass. She sniffed the bouquet and gave it an experimental sip. As expected, the wine did pass muster with flying colours and an explosion of taste on her tongue. "However, I've been in contact with his young Apprentice, Dimitri Veil. He's a British from a small Noble House, last of his family and a recent graduate from Drumstang. By all accounts he has been enjoying his graduation with a few of his friends and seeking job opportunities on the continent." Varshenska explained.

"A cover, no doubt, to scout the ground, quietly make contacts with people and prepare things for his Lord showing his hand." Nicholai concluded.

"No doubt. Further research is inconclusive – we know who his father was for sure and the man is dead. The case isn't as clear about his mother, she is believed dead as well, however my sources did find some conflicting information. Some people they talked with were convinced the woman was a Russian Pureblood witch, other write her off as a muggleborn. There are no meaningful family connections to exploit and what friends he made in Drumstang..." Silvia shrugged demurely.

"He might have simply approached them to sound them out and better blend in. We don't know how long he has been working for his Master, for all we know it might go as far back as his parents and before school." The Director suggested. "The woman might have been believed muggleborn as well and revealed as a squib descending from a pure line or eve one of the lost orphans from the war." He continued. "Does this man's history matter?"

"It helps us understand his Lord and gives us further implications of his views, the boy as well. He has implied a possible alliance with him acting as a weapon against our mutual problem if we can arrange an Honour Duel." Silvia explained.

"He is that confident? The boy is how old, eighteen? Nineteen? Gorski would eat him alive and ask for seconds."

"Dark Lords Apprentice and if the rumour is true, he is already skilled with wandless magic. I don't need to tell you what that implies about Veil and his Lord's power." Silvia took a long, slow sip from her wine, relishing in the taste and the warmth it spread through her as it softly glided down her throat.

"That's the one part of the briefing I'm not sure I buy. For all we know, that was merely a stunt to make Veil appear more dangerous than he is. After all, for all anyone knows, his master was still around, invisible. In fact the Aurors were sure of it." Nicholai shook his head in denial. "You simply don't see such power and control in someone that young."

"Unless they were training since a young age under a powerful a skilled master, like the new Dark Lord. Imagine, it a few months every summer and perhaps every Yuletide break as well for seven year straight on top of everything Drumstang teaches..." Silvia pointed out with a gleam in her eyes.

"Still a stretch, though your theory does have a merit. You're considering accepting if for nothing else to test Veil and through him his Master, aren't you?"

"Well, they might get us rid of Gorski for one, thought that's going to be a double edged sword. We might end up replacing him with Veil's Master." Varshenska admitted.

"We might not be given a choice if that man lives up to the tittle, a fourth sorcerer like Grindelwald, Dumbledore and Voldemort, perhaps a sixth if Veil lives up to the expectations being such a man's Apprentice. The world hasn't seen something like that in such a short span of time in centuries..." Nicholai shook his head in wonder and sick fascination. "You're playing with fire, Silvie and you might get burn, bad."

"There is a Nundu stalking us. We can either befriend and ride it to the top or we can be its food. No Dark Lord takes a no in a peaceful and reasonable manner. Not in the long run at least."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

 **Gringotts Bank**

 **Sofia**

 **Bulgaria**

I walked in the bank carrying a bag with hot rock-candies under a stasis charm. The rumours about my encounter with the Aurors obviously already reached the Goblins, because once they recognized me, one of the tellers got out of his high chair and scurried to meet me.

"May your enemies run in fear before you and drop all their gold, Mr Veil. What can Gringotts do for you today?" He asked and stared at me with a gleam in his eyes.

"I hope you'll gleefully slaughter your own and take everything they value into your vaults, Master Goblin. I'm here to meet Master Advocate Sharpclaw and make an offer to the Goblin Nation as a whole and Gringotts in particular from my Master." I pointedly spoke loud enough that the few wizards and witches around us would clearly hear and spread the news. Wizard-Goblin relations worldwide being less than stellar as a matter of course, people would wonder what deal the Goblins cut with me unless they either threw me out of the bank or put my head on a spike outside – something I was reasonably sure they weren't up to the task. What I was about to do was dangerous, perhaps ill-conceived as well. I couldn't really be helped after I let my Sith side too free a reign yesterday and made promises that I might not be able to keep without a small army. That in turn meant that while Vance was back at Tubor's acting as a glorified guard, I had to alter my plans and get more involved in politics among other things that I initially intended.

Really, it should have been something I planned for more. No plan survived contact with the enemy, that much I kept in mind. What I forgot this time around was the fact that sometimes you could easily slip up and gleefully kriff your own plan as well.

"Come with me, Mr Veil. I'm sure Sharpclaw will meet with you. I'll bring your request to my superiors." The Goblin eventually said after glowering murderously at me for a long time.

"Splendid. Lead the way."

"Bloody humans..." The little bastard muttered and walked deeper in the bank. Soon, we reached Sharpclaw's office, my guide knocked a few times and shouted: "Sharpy, your bloody human is here stirring shit."

"Is he now, you cranky old bastard? Do let him in!" The familiar voice of my lawyer screamed back from within.

"See you around." I waved cheerfully at the Goblin and saw myself in. "Sharpclaw, did you leave any enemy alive to have your wicked way with when you get bored or did you simply gut them all and strangled them with their own intestines?"

"Veil, if I knew you worked for a Dark Lord, I would have either brought you to the fighting pits to have some fun or gutted you myself. I might still do it." The large Goblin rumbled. "You've been busy I hear. Many dead enemies, much loot flowing into your vaults, you'll make a half-decent Goblin." He nodded happily. "For a human anyway. What do you want?"

I sat in one of the chairs, crossed my legs and grinned back at Sharpclaw. "Well, as I said to the cranky bastard, my Lord does have a mutually beneficial offer for your managers in particular and the Goblin Nation in general. What I want is some information. I'm find myself in need of some experienced and reliable werewolves. Know of any? I'm willing to pay for the information."

"That's not a service Gringotts usually offer..." Sharpclaw steeped his fingers into a pyramid, laid his chin on them and grinned, displaying all his sharp teeth.

"Consider it research about a possible business investment. I think its high time to enter the private security business."

"You're building an army for your Master, aren't you?"

"Private security." I repeated. Whoever I took into my service, they would likely would need months of training to shape up before I could call them soldiers, much less an army.

"Well, that might be a bit hard. You already managed to piss off one of the larger, more reliable and competent werewolf packs around – they make their money as mercenaries."

"Don't tell me you're speaking about those imbeciles I hunted down in Pirin? If that's what passes for reliable and competent, I'm better with grabbing random muggles from the streets." I gave Sharpclaw a flat, disbelieving look.

"No, the weres you took apart at the Fey's Delight while searching for Kolev. Their pack-mates have been sniffing around trying to find out who broke their friends."

"Ah. Those. Where can I find their leadership or at least one of their search parties? I'll have to impress upon them the importance of discipline." Make a deal, subvert or replace said leadership too depending on if they would play ball or not.

"That I would like to see." Sharpclaw cackled. "I'll make a few inquiries. There usually are a few of them at the Delight every evening, especially since yesterday. Just like everyone else, they are listening for rumours and trying to figure out what your Lord wants."

"Oh, I'm sure that you and your people will be receptive of his proposition."

Sharpclaw peered thoughtfully at me. "You're still a young human. The odds of successfully creating lucrative patents that would make a killing in both worlds are remote. Your Master on the other hand..."

Sharp one, my lawyer. "He has the knowledge, the trick is making things mass producible and practical without using magic as a shortcut. We'll need time, money, scientists and engineers, however in a few years we'll have products that will make us all filthy rich."

"You believe that." Sharpclaw nodded. "It still doesn't mean you're right."

"I'll have to prove it to you and everyone else then." I shrugged.

As we talked, he wrote into a parchment, sealed it up and magicked it away. "I'll get back to you with more information about the werewolves once I have it. Do you have anything else for me?"

"My master and I just became major partners in an operation for rare potion ingredients. That's one of the places that will require security – both people and further magical protections, investment as well."

"Going for less than legal source of revenue I see."

"It won't be used for our scientific and engineering ventures, though I'm sure those galleons will come in handy."

A knock sounded and a young goblin entered the office without waiting for invitation.

"Mr Veil, may your enemies choke on their own blood and die in agony. I'm here to escort you to the Manager's Office. Master Advocate Sharpclaw will accompany us. Follow me." He turned around and left without waiting for a response.

"Good." I gave my lawyer a nod, got up and followed the younger Goblin. As expected, four armed and armoured warriors stepped around us in an Honour Guard positions and to ensure I didn't do something foolish and we headed deeper into the bowels of the bank.


	34. Chapter 11 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Hogwarts, school of witchcraft, wizardry**

 **and intrigue**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

Shock, outrage and grim acceptance were heavy in the air. Severus Snape was one of the few who broke the stunned silence by slowly clapping, more of solidarity for a fellow Slytherin, even if they were Harry bloody Potter! His Occlumency worked in overdrive trying to get to grips with the newest fissure opening in the world and trying to swallow it whole.

The first time Severus heard of Potter being taken as an Apprentice by Veil of all people, he met the news with a sheer and utter disbelief. There was a profound sense of failure as well, yet above all else, when he learned more – both from the few contacts he had left in the Ministry, the "retired" Death Eaters and Dumbledore, glee replaced every other emotion. The spawn of James, the never sufficiently damned Potter, a Dark Wizard in training. Oh, how that bastard must be rolling in his grave now.

Still, Potter, in his House, a Slytherin with all that entailed Merlin's shivered balls! This made things complicated and not just because of his feelings on the matter. Dumbledore would want him to influence, perhaps even befriend the infernal boy. His former compatriots would want the same – anything he wrote on the matter would have even more weigh than what their spawn would send home, those who had children in the school anyway. And if Voldemort returned… Snape viciously stepped on the need to rub his arm where the Dark Mark branded his skin.

As he watched, Potter walked to the Slytherin table, head held high and proud, arrogant just like his father. That was what Snape saw, what he wanted to see, yet then the boy sat beside his godson, Nott's son and Zabini. Those four appeared to be very friendly too and that made him think. Potter… he couldn't imagine James damned Potter doing so, unless it was in an attempt for a vicious 'prank'. Of course, that man's spawn already did prank the whole wizarding world without even trying, didn't he?!

Minerva called the next name – which as preoccupied with brooding as Snape was, he missed, and the sorting continued on a sombre note.

"Severus, my office once you've settled down your new students." Dumbledore ordered.

The Potion's Master nodded stiffly and grabbed his goblet with butterbeer, wishing it was well rested firewhisky. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't sure how to proceed. The plan on his part had been simple – play up the grumpy head of Slytherin who was the only bastion of tradition and what was proper in the school, continue to unleash his ire upon the dunderheads, which was not only cathartic but helped reinforce his cover and made Potter's life as unpleasant as he could get away with. It was petty, is was nasty and small minded and until the last few weeks, Snape didn't really care. It wasn't like he had anything but dying in the course of achieving his vengeance that he could expect or hope for, was it?

Now, there was a very different Dark Lord rising. One who didn't subscribe to the Blood Purity nonsense, which by itself put him head and shoulders above most Death Eaters by itself. The man was powerful, how powerful no one was sure. Certainly powerful enough that Dumbledore wouldn't risk an open confrontation as long as there was a vaguely acceptable alternative…

"This was unexpected..." Fillius finally shook off his shock and ceased staring at Potter. "What do you think, Severus?" The excitable half-goblin asked.

"I'm going to loath the next seven years." Snape dead-panned. He pushed his emotions aside, bound them until cold logical clarity reigned through his mind and looked at his snakes.

Many of the older students didn't even bother to hide their emotions – they either scowled Potter or showed him open signs of approval. At lest a few, thankfully all of his current prefects among them, had thoughtful looks and even a few proper masks of polite dis-interest. He caught the eye of his senior Prefect, Samantha Crawley, the young woman who had reigned in Slytherin the past couple of years with no one daring to cross her and gave her a tiny nod. She Tilted her head to the side and flashed him a knowing smile before returning her attention to her peers.

Crawley would do her best to keep the peace until he made sure all his snakes were back in the nest and could address them personally. This year he had to – there was no way to let the prefects try to defuse this particular ticking bomb. It was bad enough that the House broke ranks during Potter's sorting and didn't applaud – if the others, especially those arrogant Gryffindors smelled blood, the cold war going on in Hogwarts might go hot again and he knew how bad things were when he was a student.

At least the sorting finally finished and Dumbledore again demonstrated his little eccentricities – one of the reasons why more and more people believed him going senile. Of course, Severus knew better, he was the one brewing the potions that allowed the Headmaster to handle, if barely and not very well, the heavy workload he faced on a daily basis.

Food appeared on the tables courtesy of the house elves and soon, there was a relative blessed silence as everyone went for it with a gusto. That was excellent timing – just as the staff properly recovered from the shock of the sorting. It gave Severus more time to think and plot. He looked over his goblet at the Slytherin table. Potter had fit right in with Draco and Nott, acting as the proper little Pureblood prince. That had to be Andromeda Tonks fault – she was raised a Black after all.

Thinking about children being raised, Severus' mind drifted back to learning where Albus, in his infinite wisdom or more like, bout of infinite stupidity, had stashed Potter. Petunia Evans, Dursley now. The mind boggled. While Potter's spawn might have deserved that shrew of a woman, a thought that sent a brief spike of joy through him even as his emotions were currently buried deep, the implications were… concerning.

Now he had his work cut off for him, didn't he? He had to make his mind on how to handle the Potter spawn in the long run, plan about it too before he went to greet the new snakes. How he set the tone during that first meeting would be very important in many different ways. The biggest problem there was that Severus didn't know if he would be able to keep his temper in check even when heavily relying on his Occlumency to suppress his emotions. He knew he wasn't a nice man, far from it and he did have a vindictive steak larger than Hogwarts. Could he keep it in check every time he saw and interacted with a Potter in Slytherin colours? The very idea was vexing.

Worse, being seen as friendly to the spawn, it might be viewed as choosing sides and it might very well destroy his cover. Or reinforce it if people believed that he was trying to further corrupt Potter and bring him to the Dark Side like in that amusing muggle movie. Decisions, decisions…

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

Harry's reception at Slytherin table was frostier than he hoped, though better than he feared. It was much better than what he might have gotten in any other House with Hufflepuff being the only possible exception. However, it wasn't all bad, he had a small group of prospective friends, who wasted no time in introducing him to some more of their classmates – the aloof Greengrass, her bouncy and happy friend Tracey Davis, a large girl called Bulstrode or something in that vein… there were a lot of names and faces he had to remember.

It very soon became clear that the manners that cousin Andromeda all but beat into his head were something that his new House appreciated. At least out here in public, most of them were quite stiff and very formal, they did their best to act as they were taught and project certain image that immediately set them apart from the boys and girls on the other tables. That was a bit of adjustment Harry guessed he would have to become accustomed to, fast – unless Andromeda was present it wasn't like his Master required that they observed all the stiff formality and protocol that came with "proper Pureblood meals" during the times they shared a meal. That in fact was one benefit of the other houses that he had overlooked…

Well, generally speaking anyway. The Davis girl – who was a small bundle of energy and questions didn't appear to take much head of the warning looks some of the older students shot at their corner of he table, nor did the most other first years appeared particularly disturbed by her antics.

"Tracey, I shouldn't have let you eat all those sweets..." Greengrass said in a long suffered tone.

"Nonsense… I'm all right!" Davis chirped. "Say, Harry, I can call you Harry, right?" She all but bounced in her seat, "is it true that your Master has werewolf super-soldiers?"

"I shouldn't have let you read the nonsense in the Quibbler..." Greengrass stabbed viciously a piece of baked chicken, deposited it in her dish and began to cut into it with stiff motions. "One of those days, Tracey..." She growled.

On second thought, Harry decided, at least his classmates were going to be all right. "I don't know about the super part, however he does have well trained werewolves working for him as security among other things." He admitted.

"Why would anyone trust those beasts?!" An older girl who he was unfamiliar with sneered at the very idea.

"Stronger, faster, better senses and reflexes. As my Master puts it, harder to break than ordinary people too. The only real downside is that they're under the weather a few days a month and need special precautions twelve nights a year." He explained and speared a well done chicken drumstick. "Can someone handle me the mashed potatoes, please? Thank you." He nodded to an older boy who had close enough resemblance to Nott to be close relatives. "They are loyal too, for various reasons." As far as Harry knew, that was in part because his Master did offer them what almost no government on Earth dared and perhaps because they were too afraid to cross him too.

"Loyal? Those dogs? What in Merlin's name is that man thinking?!" The girl sniffed in disdain and ceased paying any attention to Harry and the other firs years. What he could get from her was a sense of intense disdain mixed up with haughty superiority.

He shrugged, wondering what was her major malfunction – a wonderful term he learned from one of Mr Veil's engineer people.

"So, Mr Veil totally has a werewolf army?" Davis asked again.

"Tracey, slow down and eat. I'm not willing to listen to you the whole night complain that you are hungry!" Greengrass grumbled.

"I'll be fine. So werewolf army? Yes or no?"

"I won't be if you don't cease your antics and if that happens, I'll make sure you won't be as well!" Greengrass hissed at her friend.

"Don't mind her, travelling makes Daph grumpy. She'll cheer up in couple of days." Davis waved an arm dismissively. "Harry, don't make a lady ask a third time. Werewolf army?"

Yep, being in Slytherin wasn't going to be boring at all. Besides, it was nice to have someone his age who apparently didn't care that he was a Dark Wizard in training. That was a very nice change of pace.

"Even if I knew about it, I won't be at liberty to discuss it here." Harry nodded at the table and went back to his dinner.

"So he totally has one. I wonder what else is the Quibbler right about? Perhaps that Rotfang conspiracy of theirs…"

"Potter, did you have to encourage this little monster?" Greengrass' ire shifted targets from her odd friend to Harry himself.

"I merely answered her questions. I don't see how any of this is my fault. What's the Rotfang conspiracy?"

Greengrass moaned in despair just as Davis perked up and began explaining, her food forgotten.

"Now you did it, Harry." Even Draco groaned.

By the time the feast was over, Harry had to conclude that while the idea might have some merit, as far as he knew, the British Ministry of Magic wasn't competent enough to be run by cunning and dangerous vampires from beyond the curtains. He, however, wasn't dumb enough to contradict the bouncy girl – not after the half-hour excited explanation that nearly talked his ears off to everyone's bemusement.

More eccentricity from the Headmaster followed and to cap it all, everyone got to sing the school song… at their own pace and volume, a song that many of the first years like Harry didn't know. After that crime against everyone's hearing, the prefects escorted them to their common room which was in the dungeons, near their Head of House suite and the potions laboratory.

Harry's first impression was that the place was very green with some tasteful silver, rather dark, which was quite pleasant and most importantly, nicely warm thanks to a fire burning merrily in the fireplace and possibly some charms.

"First years, front and centre. We have some ground rules and warning for you all. The rest of you reprobates, take a seat and behave yourselves." A regal young woman too a centre stage within the common room. Her pleasant voice carried loud and clear, cutting through all the conversation of boys and girls catching up. She looked at the students who made their way in front of her, including Harry before her gaze moved around as she counted them. A pair of hazel eyes peered curiously at him for a moment before they moved to Draco, Nott and Zabini. "I am Samantha Crawley, the senior female prefect in Slytherin House, that means I'm the highest authority in the Snake Den when Professor Snape is unavailable." She proclaimed. "First, welcome to Slytherin!" She gave them a brief genuine smile before returning back to her more serious and attention grabbing persona.

"While all your older peers should know it well by now, it is never amiss to stress this point. After all, there are always a few of them who forget it from time to time." She sent a soft glare to a few people who chuckled nervously. "For various reasons, a few of them even making sense, to be a Slytherin in Hogwarts means to stand apart from three quarters of the student population. Many will fear and hate you just because you wear the green and silver favoured by our Founder. Some will be content to merely glare at you and mutter unflattering things behind your backs. Others will come in your face with abuse aimed at you, our House and your families. If that was all, I wouldn't bother with this little speech." Crawley's face turned grave. "We aren't always fortunate enough to face just hot air and bluster coming from those who despise us. There will be those who would gleefully hex, curse and potion you in painful and embarrassing, often dangerous ways in the guise of harmless and 'amusing' pranks. If you're caught alone, it is possible you will end up in the hospital wing unless you are very good with wand and hexes. While not as bad as it used to be in the immediate aftermath of the Blood War, things in Hogwarts can be very strained, especially between us and Gryffindor."

Harry had the sinking feeling that he just found himself on one side of an ongoing Cold War, one that was rather heated in fact. Perhaps he should have listened more carefully to what Cedric told him about the ongoing mess at Hogwarts. To the few amusing tales his cousin Nymphadora told him after they got introduced to each other.

"That's why, I don't want to see or hear any of your firsties going anywhere alone. During the fist few weeks, we'll make sure you've got a prefect or two escorting you to your classes. Professor Snape will have notes that will excuse us if we delay for our own classes while handling this responsibility." She nodded to a small cluster of older boys and girls, whose primary distinction was that they all had a shiny silver badge with Slytherin's crest and a silver stylized "P" in the centre. They waved at Harry and the other first years, a few even smiled and it appeared mostly genuine as well.

"Because of this ongoing situation, the first and most important rule for Slytherin House is solidarity." Now, a severe and pissed off look marred Crawley's face. "Which means that tonight, many of us fucked up, royally." She snapped and glared over the gathered students. "No matter what problems you have with a fellow Slytherin, no matter who you or they are, outside we show no dissension in the ranks!" She snapped furiously. "We show one face to those who hate us, we display a united front at all times, anything else will only make things worse for all of us by showing weakness to be exploited!"

"Ms Crawley is correct." A low, silky voice added. The shadows in the far corner of the room shifted and Professor Snape purposefully strode into the centre of the common room to stand beside the prefect. "The display that the whole school saw tonight was disgraceful. It was beneath every single one of you and you should be ashamed." He looked long and hard at certain students before continuing. "You will most certainly regret it."

"I am Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master and more importantly for you, your Head of House." Dark eyes stared at the first years over a hooked nose. "Hate it or embrace it, our world is changing and this isn't a recent development. Ever since Grindelwald began his rise, he shook many things that have been the bedrock of our society for centuries or even millennia. The consequences of that man's actions echo through our world to this day. Even the rise the two Dark Lords who followed could be put squarely on his legacy. By all accounts, while less radical, the one in Europe does strive to uphold much of Grindelwald's ideals, while here in magical Britain, I don't really need to explain to any of you what the Dark Lord desired, do I?"

Whatever Harry expected by his head of House, this certainly wasn't it and he wondered what else was to come. As he stared at the man in black, the first thing that struck Harry was the way his emotions seemed to be distant, like they were put aside by a Master Occlumens…

Professor Snape's intense eyes fell on Harry before he continued...


	35. Chapter 11 Parts 3&4

****AN: I do plan to flesh out things in Hogwarts with the next few updates, set up the tone for various interactions with characters that might or might not be particularly important in the future and then take a look at what happens outside the school along with a time skip or two until something more memorable happens within the castle.****

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Hogwarts, school of witchcraft, wizardry**

 **and intrigue**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

"Take to heart what Ms Crawley told you." Professor Snape demanded while his gaze didn't leave Harry. "Our position within Hogwarts has the potential to go back to the way it was during the Blood War. A few of you are old enough to have caught the tail end of that debacle," He nodded at the prefect standing beside him and a few other seventh year students. "Many of you have heard from your families what was like back then. People feared and hated everyone who wasn't openly on their side, something that is very likely to flare up again." The Professor's dark eyes fell back upon Harry making him feel uneasy. "Do not give the other Houses and as importantly, the professors a reason to act against you. If you feel compelled to retaliate over a slight or attack, real or imagined, use the cunning and guile Slytherin is famous for and for Merlin's sake, don't get caught!"

That… Harry didn't know where to begin with the implication of this statement. He was going to write home about it, both to his Master and cousin Andromeda, try to contact Mr Veil through their bond as well. Did their Head of House really just gave them tactic permission to do whatever they wanted to members of other Houses as long as they didn't get caught? Because it sounded suspiciously like that to him! It also sounded that he was mistaken about there being a cold war between Gryffindor and Slytherin – apparently it was already hot or about to become so and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that he was to blame. What did he get himself into?!

"Mr Potter, our new… celebrity." Harry fought not to squirm under Professor Snape's intense stare. As if that wasn't bad enough, now that their Head of House signed him, everyone had their attention concentrated on him. Harry had to fight the need to squirm and get away from the attention. Instead, he fell back upon his lesson as well as he could and tried to present a cool facade. It didn't help that there were brief flashes of emotions that he could get from Professor Snape that guaranteed the man didn't like him at all for some reason.

"Your very presence in the castle was always going to cause waves. The only question was what kind." The Professor continued to examine him as if he was some kind of very odd potion's ingredient, one he couldn't wait to chop to very tiny pieces. "Do I need to spell to any of you what Harry Potter, Dark Wizard Apprentice, potential heir to a Dark Lord means to us all?" Professor Snape paused for a few seconds to let his words sink in. "After tonight's performance, I feel compelled to do it anyway. I'm going to use small words to avoid misunderstandings as well." Their Head of House sneered at everyone who broke ranks in the Great Hall. "It doesn't matter if Mr Potter here merely decides to study and keep his head down trying to be a regular student." The tone used made it perfectly clear how unlikely Professor Snape found that whole idea and he wasn't alone if the few amused chuckles that came from the intently observing students were anything to go by. "Who he is, who he learns from, the fact that tonight the Hat sorted him as one of us – another Dark Wizard in Slytherin, it reflects not only on him but on us all."

That was actually one of the reasons why Harry wanted to be in Slytherin. From everything he was taught, such reputation and a membership in the House was going to open him a lot of doors. It was what Harry's Master expected from him even if he didn't require him to be sorted in any particular House. He could even wrap his head around most of the reasoning, even if some of the details were still kinda fuzzy or sounded rather silly.

Now it appeared that they might have overlooked some of the consequences and that didn't make Harry happy. Usually doing so ended with him going in his cupboard without a dinner – in other words, bad things tended to happen to him.

"The moment a new Dark Lord begin his rise on the continent, we were back in the spotlight as suspects. Five years ago, any chance to restore our reputation as anything but a den of ambitious Dark Wizards in training, died. Everyone watches us, everyone believes that the only reason some of us might not follow the new Dark Lord is because of his stance on Blood Purity. And with Mr Potter here, no matter what he intents, what his master requests, it will be a miracle if some of you don't join them before you graduate. I don't need to explain the implications of that happening, do I? We are all ambitious opportunists looking for number one and our families and close friends first, are we not?" A ghost of a smile appeared on Professor Snape's face. "When that happens and becomes public as it will inevitably happen, it will confirm what everyone already believes, 'knows' and some will be acting upon out of fear sooner rather than later." The hint of a smile vanished and their Head of House scowled. "You will be targets," Those damn eyes lingered on Harry again and he wasn't sure what suppressed emotion they held this time around. "Keep your friends and Housemates close, watch each other backs because no one other will. There will be no more public spectacles. From tomorrow on until every single one of you graduates we will be the perfect picture of one big happy family. An attack against one of us was, is and will be a slight against all of us, as it was always meant to be if you were sorted in Slytherin. I don't expect you all to get along with each other, much less actually like one another. Whatever issues you have will be sorted over right here, in the common room. Am I clear?" Snape barked aloud making many of them jump and nod frantically. "Good." He gave them a sinister smile that promised a terrible retribution to whoever tested his resolve. "Now go get to your dorms. If you have any issues, take them to the prefects – there will be two of them keeping an eye the whole night. Dismissed."

With those parting words, Professor Snape marched out of the common room, black cloak billowing behind him as if he walked against a storm front. A dazzled Harry followed the prefects directions and before he knew it, he found himself in a large-ish room with four beds – two near the wall to the right and the other pair standing below small windows under the one across the room, further reinforcing the sense that they were actually in the dungeons. The other wall had two pairs of desks separated by a closed door. The loo perhaps? Hopefully a bath too…

Harry looked around until he saw his luggage – it was placed near the bed in the corner below the windows, and trudged there. He had a letter to write and send before preparing for sleep, then perhaps a mental conversations with his Master too, because he was becoming to have some very pressing questions about the kind of madhouse he found himself in.

With all the excitement that followed, he completely forgot the Headmaster's warning about the third floor corridor and the terrible death awaiting anyone daring to venture there…

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

 **1 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

" _Apprentice, you screamed for attention. How is Hogwarts treating you?"_ Mr Veil's chipper and pleased voice echoed in Harry's head just as he was beginning to doze off.

" _Master?! It was… interesting."_ To put it mildly. Harry pushed him notable memories of the evening and the associated emotions to the forefront of his mind and did his best to both show and explain what happened.

" _Huh. That was a factor we didn't consider – it wasn't like we've been operating in magical Britain much if at all until this summer."_ His Master mussed. _"Still you're fortunate that place isn't Korriban, Apprentice. Learn everything you can, make a few reliable friends and as many contacts as you can – those will be very useful to you in the years to come. Do watch your back and not just when outside of your common room. Keep the Force at the forefront of your mind, it will give you an edge if someone decides to curse you in the back. If the situation in Hogwarts escalates, keep your head, trust your training and instincts. We do have your back, Apprentice. As far as building yourself a power base within the school goes, which apparently is what people are afraid of, don't worry about it, just try not to alienate useful contacts if at all practical. You'll need more experience and training to tackle that problem if you care about it in the future."_

" _Thank you, Master. It wasn't all bad as I told you."_

" _Indeed. So, Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Greengrass and Davis… The latter two are from League families, the Zabini are playing their own little game and that leaves the other two - 'former' Death Eater supporters who might be looking either to test and influence you or perhaps even jump ship if we prove to be a lucrative enough alternative. Well, keep to your best behaviour, impress them if you can and we'll see what the future holds for us all. Good night, Apprentice."_

" _Good night, Master. What has you so happy tonight?"_

" _Some exciting action from the mundane side, nothing for you to worry about."_ The far side of the bond closed shut and that was that. Harry relaxed in his bed and soon drifted to sleep.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

September the second, a Monday, saw the Slytherin first years all ushered in the common room by prefects who made sure everyone was wide awake and presentable to be escorted to the Great Hall for breakfast. It certainly took some getting used to to awaken in a dorm room with three more boys and sharing a common bathroom. The only thing Harry learned about his dorm-mates that morning was that both Draco and Blaise spent in-ordinary long time taking care of their looks, especially the hair in Malfoy's case. At leat Zabini had a short buzz-cut otherwise they might have been late.

"Everyone here?" Crawley waked from the side door leading to the girls dorms and the female firsties followed her like ducklings.

"All present and accounted for." Roland Blanche, the seventh year male prefect confirmed. "If a bit under the weather still." He added after looking at a few grumpy boys.

"They'll get better once they have a hot meal in them. Firsties, follow us. We'll give you the scenic tour to the Great Hall and should arrive just in time for breakfast to be served."

What followed was a fast tour that pointed out notable locations on the first floor and the dungeons. From the potions' lab and few disused training rooms that Slytherins occasionally used to train spell-casting, duelling and for older students to fix up issues between themselves, to the most straightforward way to the greenhouses outside, the history of magic classroom complete with their ghost teacher and finally the moving stairway, which was something Samantha warned them about, they saw it all.

The Slytherins arrived in the Great Hall in one large group in contrast with the other houses who only had a handful of older students gathered in small groups talking animately. It was not lost to anyone that the moment they saw the Slytherin incursion, some of them lowered their voices and gave them wary looks. On the other hand, there were students who weren't visibly bothered by the arrival of the Slytherins. Silver linings, right, Harry wondered.

"Do you think we'll have many classes with the Griffindorks?" Draco asked loud enough for every Slytherin to hear, something that sent a ripple of amusement through the snakes.

"I hope not if everything they warned us about was true." Nott answered.

"If you're lucky, you'll have your classes primary with the other two houses, especially potions, charms and defence – those are where things can go wrong the most, especially potions." One of the male prefects added.

"Can we have some coffee and strong tea, preferably both already?" A bleary eyed Davis demanded.

"No coffee for you!" Greengrass ordered. "I'm serious! No one dare give her any coffee, she's a nightmare when she drinks it!"

"More of a nightmare you mean, Daph." An unfamiliar voice interjected. "Welcome to Hogwarts, little cousin."

Harry turned his head to see one of the Ravenclaws had disengaged himself from his friends and had walked to the Slytherin table where everyone was busy picking up seats. Looking at the older boy, he could see some vague resemblance with Tracey.

"Robert. Coffee?"

"I made that mistake once and had to deal with a witch bouncing all over the manor for hours. No coffee for you unless your housemates want to keep you locked in your common room for the full experience." He smirked.

"I hate you." Tracey declared without heat and plopped down on the bench before without a care in the world crossed her arms on the table and promptly paced her head on them. "Someone awake me when the breakfast arrives."

"Very lady-like as always." Robert shook his head in fond amusement.

"I'm the youngest girl, I don't have to worry about making the best impression or continuing the family name. Besides, being a lady is boring and overrated." Tracey explained in a tone of utter conviction.

"Take care and call if you need anything or if you need me to hex boys from crawling after you. See you around, cousin." Robert waved and went back to his table.

"Whatever." Tracey mumbled.

"Some days, I despair and wonder why you're my best friend." Greengrass groaned.

"You know you love me, Daph. The world will be a boring place without me."

Draco looked between the two girls and the retreating back of the Ravenclaw before turning in turn to Harry and Nott who sat beside him. "What just happened?" He asked in confusion.

Yep, Harry decided. Whatever could be said for Hogwarts, he was going to have some fun in this place. Likely find some good and fun friend as well. Allies and all that came with them could surely wait a bit.

"Ms Greengrass, is you friend like that all the time?" Harry asked.

"You can call me Daphne if I can call you Harry, Mr Potter." Greengrass glanced at her friend. "This is actually Tracey when she is off coffee, too much sugar and generally on her better behaviour."

"She gets… more interesting?" Zabini perked up at that explanation.

"Of course I get to be more interesting! What are you taking me for, Zabini?" Tracey raised her head up a bit to properly glare at the boy before returning it to its resting perch.

"I'm going to like this place." Harry said aloud.

"Not you too..." Daphne bemoaned in despair.

In a flash of magic, food and utensils covered the table carefully avoiding Tracey and everyone else resting an appendage on it. They just began to eat, when Professor Snape marched into the Great Hall with a purpose, black cloak and robes billowing around and behind him and a stack of parchment dutifully floating in his wake.

"Everyone is here? Any issues?" He asked Crawley.

"None whatsoever, Professor." She answered.

"Good. Here are your schedules. First years first, the rest of you can find your own." Their Head of House clicked his fingers and parchments flew away from the top of the stack to land in front of every single of Harry's classmates.

Nott was the first to snatch his and give it a once over, which promptly made him groan. "Just look at this! We have more than half our classes with the golden wonders!"

Harry did as suggested and frowned. Yeah, his not quite friend yet was right. Potions, Defence and Charms – the three classes the prefect just warned them about as hazardous, they all had with Gryffindor. That left only Astronomy and Herbology with Hufflepuff leaving history and Transfiguration with Ravenclaw. Today they had two periods of potions until noon, then lunch, another two periods, this time defence, one period of history followed by study and homework time until dinner. That was all Harry really cared about right then and there so he pocketed the schedule and returned to his breakfast and listening to his housemates comment on their own schedules and expectations.


	36. Chapter 11 Parts 5&6

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Hogwarts, school of witchcraft, wizardry**

 **and intrigue**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

Professor Snape was a spiteful and vicious bully, Harry concluded soon after his first potion's lesson began. While he was glad not being a Gryffindor considering the hostile disposition many of their first years had towards him – they practically radiated fear and some even hatred when they saw him, the way his Head of House treated them since the moment the lesson began was much closer to the way Uncle Vernon spoke to him before his Master rescued him than a teacher trying to teach them! It didn't help that watching the man, Harry could clearly perceive flashes of vicious glee as he tore into the Gryffindors with questions and verbal abuse.

Snape took at least a fifty points from the lions for either not knowing the answers, not bothering to open a book before class and in the end, not writing down the answers supplied by Slytherins, who did answer, promptly enough! The class only went downhill from there, which was a disappointment after the awesome start where the Professor told them abut all the cool things they could brew, from luck to a way stop even death!

Later, while Harry and his classmates trudged towards he Great Hall for lunch, he felt more confused than anything. Don't get him wrong, he didn't really like the Gryffindors, however his whole thing felt off, complete with the glee many of the other Slytherins expressed at the way the class went. Worst of all, there was a part of him that actually enjoyed the show even as he knew it was wrong… Then why it also felt so good an entertaining?! Was this the Dark Side and its side effects his Master warned him about? He should probably contact him again tonight to ask.

Lunch at least went without a hitch and soon the first year Slytherins found themselves in the Defence classroom. The Professor was already inside waiting for them behind his desk, reading a thick, leather bound book.

"Take your seats, wands, textbooks and parchment to take notes out. We have a few more minutes before class starts." This was Quirrell – the young man Harry briefly met at the Leaky Cauldron during the disastrous trip with Hagrid.

He found himself sitting with Draco again, with Zabini and Nott taking the desk in front of them and Tracey and Daphne the one behind.

"Do you think that the Gryffindorks will try to blow us up again?" Malfoy asked.

That was perhaps the lowest point of the potion's class – a Gryffindor boy, a Ronald Weasley messed up his potion, which promptly ate through his cauldron and according to Professor Snape, nearly blew them all up.

"It might be harder in here, however I'm sure that sooner or later they would rise up to the occasion." Nott muttered darkly – he had the misfortune to be the Slytherin closest to the disaster and had to jump on his chair to avoid having his shoes eaten through before Professor Snape vanished the whole mess.

For the second time that day the Gryffindors filed in small groups instead of arriving together escorted and led by prefects. The professor merely glanced at them a few times over his book until everyone apparently arrived and he put it down.

"First, let's make sure you're all here and I have names to your faces. I am your Defence against the Dark Arts Professor, Quirinus Quirrell." He took a parchment and a quill from his desk and began calling names. With everyone present and accounted for, the class could finally begin.

It immediately became obvious that the tone and experience in here would be very different from potions. Quirrell waked around his desk and leaned on it. "The Dark Arts and defending against them." He began in a calm, no-nonsense tone. "What are the Dark Arts, why do we have a core class here in Hogwarts dedicated to the subject? Anyone willing to answer?"

All Harry could get from the man was a sense of curious amusement, which was much better than the few emotions he perceived from Snape during potions. A few Gryffindors warily raised hand, while many Slytherins simply observed wondering where was the Professor going with this.

"You, Ms Brown." Quirrell pointed at one of the girls in red rimmed robes.

"They're what Dark Wizards and Witches use to harm people." The girl said in a small voice. More than few Gryffindors made sounds of agreement while many a Slytherin sneered back at them.

"That's both partially right and a common misconception. Take two points for Gryffindor Ms Brown. Does anyone else want to try?" The Professor pointed behind Harry. "Ms Greengrass, you can have a go at it."

Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Daphne bring down her hand. "The Dark Arts commonly encompass various spells and potions, which have the purpose to harm, control or kill the target. Charms, Transfiguration, Potions – practically every branch of magic has spells that can be defined as Dark Arts depending on the exact definition used."

A wave of unease rippled through the Gryffindors at that statement.

"Closer but not quite, Ms Greengrass, take three points for Slytherin." Quirrell said. "Despite what many Witches and Wizards want to believe, what the Dark Arts are is far from clear cut. While in general terms Ms Greengrass is right and their primary function is offensive, such an explanation is at best gross simplification. Intent behind the magic matters a great deal. Something as simple as a cutting charm can be used to maim or kill just as easily as to chop vegetables or cut away offending weeds. Just as the levitation charm can be used to pluck away said weeds as well as drop a heavy object on someone's head." The Professor explained. "Despite labelled Dark, the Dark Arts aren't necessary 'evil'." He added to looks of sheer disbelief from the Gryffindor half of the room, which was mirrored by many Slytherins preening at being proven right.

"However, those popular sentiments aren't without a reason and they do hold a grain of truth. Extensively practising certain branches of the Dark Arts over prolonged period of time, the Unforgivables being among the chief offenders here, can have a profound addicting, mind-affecting and corrupting effects. Delving deep into them, especially if done too much and too fast is know to twist people and then, causing suffering through Dark Magic makes them feel great until nothing else they do could rival such joy until one day there is only one way they could feel happy again, even briefly. That's what some experts believe happened to Bellatrix Lestrange – she went too deep, too fast in service of the Dark Lord, her mind broke and now she is serving a life sentence in Azkaban after doing terrible things." Quirrell paused to let his words sink. "The Dark Arts aren't toys, boys and girls. They are powerful, dangerous and not to be underestimated. Those who pursue them often risk their sanity for power. On the other hand, a careful, methodical and supervised approach has produced many completely sane and well adjusted Dark Wizards and Witches."

Now many a Gryffindor watched their Professor with outrage just after the same people nodded in satisfaction at being proven right in their beliefs.

"You do know that despite the social stigma they carry in certain circles, Dark Magic in general and many of the Dark Arts, while frowned upon and discouraged are perfectly legal, right?" Quirrell asked with a small amused smile on his face. "What truly makes some of the Dark Arts dangerous both to the target and user is that some of them require malicious intent and the mindset to want to inflict the full scope of a curse on the target. Take the infamous Cruciatus for example." Quirrell drew his wand and took it with two fingers in the middle. "I can point my wand at one of you, make he motions, say the incantation loud and clear and to top it all, put as much magic in the curse I can. Do you know what would happen?" He asked with a gleam in his eyes.

All Harry could perceive as he watched along with the other Slytherins with rapt attention was that the only thing the man felt then and there was mirth, as if he was on a joke no one else knew. The Gryffindors on the other hand were almost all scared with some of the going pale.

"No one?" Quirrell smirked. "At worst, if I was to do it, I would tickle you. I don't want to hex or curse you, much less torture any of you..." He paused and grinned. "Unless homework and eventually exams count." The light tone of that delivery prompted a few snickers and made the atmosphere in the room significantly less tense.

The Professor waited for a bit until everyone calmed down before continuing. "The Cruciatus is considered the worst of the Unforgivables for a good reason. It requires intense desire to inflict unimaginable pain to the victim and according to accounts from those who had used it, it makes you enjoy and crave to cause said pain again. This is one of the major factors that make Dark Arts so hated among a large portion of the population. Another reason is that compared to regular magic, wounds caused by Dark Magic sometimes can't be healed properly leaving gruesome scars. In other cases, certain blood curses remain in a family for generations constantly plaguing them. To properly defend against he Dark Arts and those who practice them, you first need to know what you are facing. During this class we will be discussing the nature of the Dark Arts, the moral implications surrounding them, how to recognise and protect ourselves from a wide variety of curses, hexes and Dark Creatures. We will also discuss the Dark Arts in particular and Dark Magic in general relationship with the law."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

The defence class gave Harry a lot of food for thought. It was nice to know that there was at least one teacher in the school who had similar views about Dark Magic in general to those of his Master. Quirrell, strange name and all, knew how to grab and retain attention too, which was very nice too. Harry had always found some trouble concentrating on material that might have been important but presented in a dry and uninteresting manner. If it was for the encompassing need to prove himself worthy of a real family and people who cared, he knew it would have been much harder to endure his lessons with cousin Andromeda for example. That and she could be scary too when she wanted!

That's why, after the mixed bag that was potions and the exciting and memorable defence class, Harry found nothing but abject disappointment during their first encounter with history and the ghost who was their Professor. It sounded cool when he first heard about this, however it took just a few minutes for the novelty to vaporize and Binns droning became a burden that had to be endured. Even the Ravenclaws stopped taking notes halfway.

"I hope our other classes would be better than this… this disgrace!" Draco exclaimed.

"Me too. It has been a very mixed bag so far." Harry agreed earning himself a glower from Ms Granger who sat nearby.

"We're supposed to be learning new things in here… not just hear the textbooks wort for word!" The young witch hissed after checking up in her open textbooks. "He's telling us the Goblin Rebellions section word for word."

"Father told me it has been this way for years now. The Board of Governors couldn't decide on a replacement – about half want someone who spouts Alliance propaganda, the others want a proper traditional wizard and witch who can teach us proper appreciation about our history and culture." Draco explained in a whisper. No one of the first years was quite ready yet to test how much attention the ghost paid them.

Hermione's mouth opened widely and for a few seconds she gaped like a fish with an outraged expression on her face. "This… this is so wrong!" She hissed like a furious feline. "Its history! In school!" She added in a clipped angry tone almost as if words were about to fail her. Almost all the Ravenclaws nodded franticly at that declaration showing some admirable House unity and living up to expectations.

"That's politics." Zabini added. "Like it or hate it, they're everywhere. I'll try to follow the terrible duo's example and catch on some sleep. If you're so outraged do something productive like writing some homework or something."

Harry looked at the back of the room where both Tracey and Daphne did indeed have their arms closed on their desks, heads resting on them and faces hidden by their long hair. By all appearances they were taking a nap and the Professor paid them no mind.

Yep, he could safely chalk down this class as disappointment.

"Ms Granger, what classes did you have today?" Harry inquired. "We had potions, which wasn't exactly stellar..."

"With Gryffindor too and we almost got blown up." Draco added, prompting outraged looks from more than a few Ravenclaws.

"That too. At least defence was great. What about you?"

"Charms with our Head of House, it was excellent and fun!" Hermione immediately brightened.

"We had potions just before coming here," Said a witch with an Asian features who sat besides Hermione. "We however failed to have an exploding cauldron. I'm Sue Li, Mr Potter. It's nice to meet you in person."

"Nice to meet you too, Ms Li. So we can expect at least two exciting classes this year then?"

"Three more to go. There is yet hope for us." Ms Li said with a small smile.

"As long as we aren't stuck with the Gryffindors." Blaise interjected.

"Aren't you sleeping?" Draco threw their dorm-mate an amused look.

"You're kinda distracting. The ghost at least is kind of monotonous so no issues there."

"I'm so sorry we aren't letting you sleep in class." Hermione grumbled and sent the boy a cross look. She appeared and felt offended at the very idea and that it might just be not only possible but acceptable in history!

"They're Slytherins, Hermione, they don't necessary have appreciation of the finer things in life like books and studying. They're boys too." Ms Li declared sagely.

Harry simply blinked at that statement – he wasn't sure if he should be offended if it was the plain truth as far as studying went anyway.

Li's housemates were a lot more animated and disturbed by the implications if the multiple indignant 'Heys!' were anything to go by.

"Girls." Draco rolled his eyes. 'Worse, know it all, Ravenclaw girls."

"Ravenclaws." Li declared proudly. "It's a matter of pride that we know it all."

The snarking just went downhill from there. What took Harry aback was how easy many of the boys and girls made it and that he could sense that for most of them it was merely a good natured way to pass the time until class was over.

It felt quite nice in fact, nothing like he had experienced until recently. Was this how being a normal boy felt like?

* * *

 **=TSA=**

That evening saw Harry on his desk in the dorm, pouring over potions books and toiling over the essay Professor Snape wanted ready for Friday, when they would have two more potions classes. He felt uneasy and on edge, though it had nothing to do with school – definitely it wasn't because the hard to get into homework. He had no notable issues with his housemates, just the odd nasty stare and muttered unpleasantries from few older students. In contrast, it didn't appear that his classmates had much of a problem with him, especially now that the first impact of him being sorted in Slytherin began to go away.

"Harry, fancy a game of exploding snap?" Draco called after returning from the common room with Nott in tow.

Potter looked at his essay, shook his head at the mess and got up. It could wait until his head was a bit clearer. He knew that the primary source of unease was because of his Master - he felt danger, anger and a sense of malicious glee coming from the bond before Mr Veil shut it down firmly and now he didn't know what to do about it! He already wrote a letter and sent it by his grumpy post owl, which left him fumbling in the dark. What if something happened to his Master?!

"I'm in." He answered distractedly.

"I'm in too. Any idea where Blaise is?" Nott asked.

"Last I heard, Davis dragged him in one of her shenanigans, the poor sod." Draco answered.

"Sucks to be him." Nott nodded as if it made perfect sense.

Harry shook his head at their antics. "Where are we going to play?" He asked and looked around. If they had a table in the middle of the room or something in that vein…

"Just throw down a few blankets, the House Elves will have them as good as new in the morning." Nott suggested.


	37. Chapter 11 Parts 7&8

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 11: Hogwarts, school of witchcraft, wizardry**

 **and intrigue**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Mandal Motors HQ**

 **Coventry**

 **UK**

Director John Killington entered the HQ of his plant's new owners experiencing mixed feelings. On one hand, he was glad that the new owner and major shareholder was British – if he was honest to himself, he had qualms when rumours started about a possible sale or acquisition of Jaguar by other parties, especially when Ford was one of the likely contenders. Jaguar was one of the oldest and best known car manufacturing names in the UK and even if they weren't Rolls-Royce or Aston-Martin, being bought by Americans simply grated. Hell, the owners and upper management believing such a move was necessary was intensely unpleasant feeling!

Now, while they did have a new owner, it was at least built and owned by a British man, which was a relief or would be if Killington knew what exactly the rising tech-magnate Veil intended. That was why he was here along with two of the most senior people responsible for development in Jaguar. At least the two engineers were happy and animately discussing all the rumours running through the company lately. The best bet, one John himself subscribed on, was that Veil wanted the brand recognition of Jaguar and its people's know how in designing and building electrical and hybrid cars – which was precisely what the pair waking behind him talked his ear off on the way here.

"Mr Killington?" Asked a young woman wearing a business suit that fit her slim figure very nicely. She had a heart-shaped face and shoulder length brown hair framing it. "Good evening. I'm Joan Glade, Mr Veil's assistant. Please follow me, he is expecting you." She said in a quiet pleasant voice after looking at an open folder she held and the two engineers.

The first thing that John really noticed after entering the old refurbished building was the number of security – there were a lot of young and middle aged fit men who moved like well trained and alert soldiers in the large lobby of the former hotel. He should know, he spent enough time in the navy and around marines and a few SBS types to recognize the signs on sight. Was their new employer that paranoid or did he plan to do more here than simply develop a new breed of car? The former was likely when he thought about it – from everything he heard and read, Veil was on the forefront of multiple bleeding edge fields in both engineering and theoretical physics.

Ms Glade led them to an elevator where she used a key-card held by a leather cord around her neck and typed an access code before the doors opened and she boarded. They piled up in the large metal coffin and when the doors closed it effortlessly moved up gently enough to be barely noticeable. Fast too – they ended up on the tenth floor within moments and the secretary led them down to an old fashioned and richly decorated hallway – carpets, expensive wood panelling, the works. Hell, the main reason the hotel went under was that it was to expensive to build and maintain, not to mention the astronomical price of even regular rooms – there simply was no way for the place to break even much less run in the green and eventually pay for itself in Coventry. In fact it was worth a laugh when it closed. The only real surprise was that everything of worth hasn't been sold off years ago – John could vaguely remember that the corridor they walked through wasn't atypical for the hotel, he remembered seeing pictures and reading about it in the paper.

Seeing the place in person, he had to wonder how much money Veil fronted up for the building and if it was really worth it It was actually at least a bit concerning. For all the hype and known government contracts, just acquiring controlling interest in Jaguar had been very expensive – he knew that for sure.

The personal assistant led them in a large conference room dominated by a huge and well polished mahogany table. The place was out of some particularly well off lord's wet dream… perhaps literally. He recalled that he primary investor in this whole monument of excess was a member of the House of Lords, which all things considered, did make sense in a twisted kind of way that offended all of Killngton's instincts.

A young man whose face he had seen a lot lately, both on TV and in the papers, sat on the far side of the table with a large black portable computer in front of him and a cup of steaming coffee on his right.

"Director Killington?" Veil stopped typing when he saw the. "It's good you made it. Do come in," The man smiled and waved them to join him. "Ms Glade, please provide refreshments to the gentlemen and that would be all for tonight."

"Sir." The secretary nodded and asked what they would like. A few minutes and a bit of small talk later, they all had cups with hot tea and coffee in front of them and the lithe woman left, closing the doors behind her.

"I'm sure you have your theories about this meeting and why I spent a lot of money to take control of Jaguar." Veil stated and took a large sip of his drink.

"The thought has crossed our minds. To be honest, I'm not sure why I am here, sir. I merely run the plant in Coventry." John admitted.

"That's the precise reason. I need a first hand account of your factory's capabilities, potential for expansion and upgrade. Before we're done tonight, you'll be signing in non-disclosure agreements over what we'll discuss too."

"We all had already done so." Killington pointed out.

"Not when Mandal Technologies and Motors are concerned you have not and due to the ongoing merger with the later and my plans, you'll need them in order to continue doing your jobs.

The engineers perked up at that. It seemed their pet theory was closer to the truth than most. Veil got up and went to an ornate drawler at the back of the room and retrieved three folders with an attached fountain pen each. "Go over them and choose if you'll sign or not. We'll continue when you're done." With that, Veil returned his attention to the computer and continued tapping without paying them any more attention – a rather rude and unexpected development to say at least.

John could read between the lines too – it was all but a given if unsaid that without signing, at best they would all be looking at either a demotion or looking for new jobs in the foreseeable future. He shared a look with his colleagues and took the offered folder.

As these thing went, it was a standard form, though some points were closer to what he had to go through back in the military to be given access to classified information, complete with similar penalties backed by Her Majesty's Government. That part at least shouldn't have been a surprise considering how thick Mandal Technology was with multiple governments, including the British one. John eventually signed, at least in part due to curiosity. At least the people who he brought weren't amongst their more liberal colleagues who might have refused on sheer principle alone.

"All done?" Veil asked when they pushed a stack of signed agreements towards him. "Good. First, let's get the obvious out of the way. One of the reasons of this partnership is to develop an electric and hybrid car prototypes and once all kins are ironed out and infrastructure is in place, enter mass production. While we're working on multiple models of power cells and advanced batteries, I currently have very few people who could create a practical electrical or hybrid engine for a mass produced and affordable car. This will be the first thing I'll need Jaguar's own R&D division to work on in conjunction with my engineers once you're informed precisely what you have to work with. Second, and this is one of the reasons for the NDA's, barring an unexpected breakthrough, we should have practical fusion cracked complete with a working prototype plant by late spring next year. Once that's done and we begin building fusion reactors en mass, price of electricity will be a fraction of what is today, making electrical vehicles, both cars and trucks, trains as well much more viable and cheaper to run compared to today. We'll be pushing into all classes of freight vehicles once that's done so we will need practical prototypes both for lorries and their engines ready to be tested within the next couple of years at the latest."

"That's certainly ambitious..." Especially the claims about the fusion…

"The only reason we don't have it already cracked are some engineering problems due to insufficiently advanced material science. With our Helios super-conductor we already have all the necessary building blocks and theory. It's not a matter of if or can we do it, the only question is how long before we have it working and stable." Veil explained as if reading John's mind. Before the Director could answer, the engineers began to excitedly bombard Veil's with questions.

It was at that moment when their host and new boss stiffened just before the temperature in the room ran way down way too fast and most odd of all, there was no sound nor the tell-tale breeze of an active AC.

"We have uninvited guests." For a moment, Veil's face contorted in anger and did his eyes turned yellow?!

What just happened wasn't lost to the pair of engineers who paused mid-questioning.

"Get far away from the windows." Veil ordered in a tone that would have made Killington's last CO green in envy. Their host surged to his feet, pushed back his chair and turned to the tall windows to the right side of the room and where did he get that short stick in his right hand from?

As if to confirm that something had suddenly gone terribly wrong, alarms blared all through the building, something that prompted John to action. "You heard the man! Get back!" He snapped to the engineers.

Green and purple lighting flashed outside and the windows blew inwards with shards of wickedly jagged and sharp glass flying in only to stop in front of Veil as if they struck an invisible barrier. The cold went even worse and John felt his blood freezing in his veins even as his heard raced in his chest. Suddenly he was back on _the Sheffield_ surrounded by screaming broken men and liquid fire after the enemy missile strike. He was desperately dragging away a young midshipman who had half his face turned into torn, raw meat and terrible burns on his right side. Another young sailor tried to drag himself away from spreading flames, while a pair of unfortunate sods screamed as the fire washed over them before help could get anywhere near their funeral pyre.

Suddenly, light and warmth washed over John, bringing him back from the flash-back and he saw a ghostly outline of a large, roaring tiger between himself and Veil. The impossible feline glared at the shattered windows, its tail slashing angry left and right. In the ghostly light, he could barely make two hunched figures in black cloaks holding to the window frames from the outside with hooded black voids where their faces should have been pointed at the tiger.

Something small and fast flashed from outside and a long beam of a sickly green light flew at Veil only to be intercepted by a chair that jumped to strike it. The impact shattered the unfortunate piece of furniture sending sharp pieces of wood flying everywhere, yet half the broken shards simply halted when they hit the same barrier that still had the shards of glass suspended.

What in Christ's name was happening?! Was his tea drugged?!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 8**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Mandal Motors HQ**

 **Coventry**

 **UK**

Two Dementors, four fools buzzing around on brooms and whatever backup they might have. Two of the flying bastards had very well done disillusionment charms on them making them practically invisible in the darkness outside. However the other two weren't anywhere near that good with those spells – they were more or less transparent blurs in the air. It was too bad for them that I could sense them through the Force. With the pair of soul-suckers clawing at the broken window and hissing at my Patronus and a group of my new employees stuck in the room behind me I was in no mood to play games. Cleaning up this mess was already going to be a major pain in the ass.

It didn't help that the Dementors' aura clawed at my mind and made me briefly experience real fear – which only served to anger me further. I channelled all those emotions as a fuel to the Dark Side and grabbed the closest two broom-riders in a crushing telekinetic grip then slammed them into the building with enough force to shatter bones. A dull thump and the sound of breaking glass followed by a short lived scream made it obvious that a third of the attackers were no longer a threat. That left the other two fly-boys as an immediate concern – my Patronus was more than capable of keeping the Dementors at bay until I had the time to deal with them.

Two whispered incantations and magic rushed through me and my wand to fuel a piercing and a cutting charm that caught a flying wizard in the side. The spell keeping him invisible broke and he screamed as magic gorged part of one shoulder and nearly cut off his left arm above the wrist. He tumbled in an out of control spin heading to the parking lot below.

The last flyer saw what just happened to his friends and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. He made a sharp turn clawing for the skies as fast as he could. The wizard was too close to escape my reach and flew off his broom head first when I grabbed it with the force and suddenly halted it mid-flight. He let out a piercing shriek as he fell and for a moment I could clearly feel his terror over the Dementors' aura.

He wasn't getting off that easy – I snatched him roughly from mid-air and pulled him towards the shattered windows while casting anti-apparation and anti-Portkey charms. If I had anything to say about it, he wouldn't be running to safety tonight. I wanted some bloody answers!

It was at that moment that my security finally broke down the door and a pair of werewolves charged in with pistol and wand in hand.

"One of you, keep the Dementors at bay." I ordered and yanked my catch over the wraiths' heads fast enough that their skeletal arms couldn't catch him. "And secure this bastard. I want him alive and in condition to answer questions. Get the damned building locked down and escort my guests to a secure location – I don't want the Aurors to Obliviate them out of their engineering degrees."

"Sir, yes, sir!" The guards chorused and the distinctive flash of a stunner lit up the room. Good, my captive wasn't going away anytime soon.

"What am I going to do with you..." I wondered aloud as I examined the Dementors through the Force.

An abyss made of ravenous, endless hunger and despair stared back at me. It was almost like examining a wound in the Force but not quite. As I observed it closer, I saw memories briefly flash in front of my eyes – just snapshots from some of the worst things I've experienced, from the hell that were my first few months on Korriban, all the abuse, torture, how they broke us to make us proper Acolytes… I remembered holding Ashara's dead body back on Shili, after a Republic strike team murdered her... I remembered vividly whole worlds dying by my hands, billions screaming in pain as orbital fire burned them to ash…

"Fuck this..." I hissed at the closest abomination, holstered my wand and fed every emotion those things made me experience to the Dark Side. Power built within and around me, the soul-sucking bastards felt something and tried to glide away, however I simply wouldn't have it. Wraiths or not, they were tangible enough to stop with telekinesis and once in my grasp I squeezed as hard as I could.

The Dementors went wild – they shook, howled like damned souls being tortured in the deepest pit of hell. I could feel whatever passed for their flesh pulp, bones crack, yet even when they should have been just sacks of meat, they continued to cream and struggle. Perhaps there was something to the tale of those things being immortal.

"Let's put it to the test." I paused for a moment to examine the solid brick and concrete construction of the building through my power and smiled viciously. A thought was enough to tear away the steel mesh weaved in the floor around the windows. Metal rods came alive twisting like snakes guided by my will alone and I used them to bind the struggling wraiths.

Behind me I could sense more security pile in and when they saw me manhandling the twin horrors both fear and awe washed over me. "Get the civilians secure and corral this thing with Patroni." I snapper an order and threw one of the Dementors at the wall to my right before pushing it and the metal ropes holding it in place until they embedded in the bricks and twisted to make it as hard as possible to get away. Two Patroni came to life chasing away some of the fear and chill, yet even their magic was far from enough to douse my burning rage. Now that I no longer needed to worry about the second Dementor, I unleashed the might of the Dark Side on the one before me. Sith lighting cracked over my spread fingers and I slammed thick purple forks of it into the abomination.

The Dementor shrieked even louder, loud and piercing enough that glass all over the building shattered from the sound alone. Immortal or not, it could feel pain. I could sense agony breaking through the everlasting hunger that was its existence and poured even more power into my attack. Its robes caught fire, the steel rods caging it glowed red with heat and finally I could see it clearly. The Dementor was an ugly rotted humanoid that once upon a time might have been a human. Now? It was little more than a decaying corpse with the only real feature upon its twisted mouldy head being its lipless mouth. As it screamed and twisted in agony, it opened its maw wide and I could see a few almost completely rotted teeth.

I channelled enough energy to burn through a tank, the steel rods glowed white and melted, covering the wraith in molten metal, yet it still didn't die! This simply wouldn't do. I snarled at the offending creature and pulled on the lighting storm connecting us. The Dark Side energy solidified guided by my fury forming claws that I used to grab its torso and head even as they discharged more and more energy within its shaking form. I pushed the lighting claws as deep as I could, squeezed, twisted and pulled as hard as I could.

"Why won't you fucking die?" I growled at the screaming Dementor. Its flesh gave away just to solidify as fast as my claws dug deeper, its head twisted in my grip all the way around, yet it still screamed and struggled within my grip.


	38. Chapter 12 Parts 1&2

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Falling dominoes**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Bones Manor**

 **unplottable location**

 **UK**

The end of another day of dealing with all the 'fun' that came with the rapid expansion of the Auror Corps and the constant stream of parchment-work it generated on top of her other duties as a Director, saw Amelia Bones collapse in her favourite armchair. She curled up with a hot drink and a light book determined to finally relax a bit. It was quiet at home without her niece and often enough, Susan's friends running around and causing all kinds of havoc young witches got up to. The only company she had were her brother, who lately was more out of it than usual and currently dozed in his room along with the House Elves who habitually kept themselves out of sight unless called. While Amelia missed Susan and all the chaos she left in her wake, their lack made the manor appear even larger and lonelier, a stark reminder of everyone that she lost in the last war. Yet she was paradoxically glad because of the brief moment of piece and quiet. Such times were few and far between at the best of times… and this one didn't last. Her badge buzzed and came alive with a priority call.

"Major spell-fire, muggle area, Coventry, nailing it down now and sending the response unit to the closest Floo point, Director." Shacklebolt's voice came from the enchanted badge.

"I'm on my way, Kingsley." Amelia said and jumped out of the armchair. "Spinlley, I need my gear." She requested. Why did Coventry ring a bell? There was not major magical location of note in that area of the country that she could recall on short notice.

A few seconds later, one of her House Elves popped into existence along with a truck containing her real work clothes – an enchanted Auror robe complete with a light set of dragon-hide armour that went underneath, charmed cuffs, a Goblin forged dagger and first aid bag containing all kinds of potions, powders and bandages. As soon as she had her combat uniform on, Amelia Portkeyed to the Ministry's atrium and strode fast to the Auror Department. When she arrived, it was already a madhouse.

"Kingsley, report." The Director ordered.

"We've got a bloody battle, Ma'am." A harried looking Shacklebolt answered. "When our people arrived in the vicinity, they got hit by banshee's scream or something worse – there are windows broken in a large area around the battle site. Whatever happened, it occurred at a hotel building and its facade is wrecked. They have confirmed at least one wizard dead – he had been cursed in mid-air and died colliding with the ground. Multiple injured muggles confirmed as well and those are just the collateral damage confirmed by remote observation. Whatever is happening is still ongoing – there are deafening shrieks like those from banshees but not quite coming from high up in the building, which must be the site of the battle. I've got reinforcements request and am building a larger response force to answer it. I've also alerted the Magical Catastrophes Department as well as the Obliviators..." Kinglsey reported.

"Establish a perimeter, contain the situation, first priority is to stop whatever is happening, second, to prevent the Statute from blowing up in our faces. Get all off duty Aurors and Hit Wizards to report in, yesterday! I'll lead the reinforcements, you'll coordinate things here." Bones looked around. "Moody, good. You and Proudfoot come with me."

Within a few minutes they had another dozen Aurors ready to go with more on the way. They Flooed to the safe house in Coventry and then Apparated fast following the instruction of the first response team. By the time they arrived, there were some muggles milling on the streets looking warily around and multiple police cars and ambulances raced toward the incident.

"Do we have muggle repelling charms up? If not, do it now, we'll need the time!" Amelia ordered after landing in a shadowed alley where Scrimgeour and two younger Auror kept out of sight.

"They are already up and it wasn't us." The senior Auror Captain answered. "I threw what detection spells I dared that way," He pointed at a tall building that was hard to see from their position. "that place lit up with magic soon after we arrived – muggle repelling, anti-Porteky and anti-Apparation, various defensive and detection charms. "If I didn't know better, and I don't, someone struck someone else's safe house. Perhaps the usual suspects being up to no good?" He asked hopefully.

Death Eaters reliving their former glory or having their illegal activities backfiring were certainly better options than running into something from across the channel, especially when there was a Dark Lord running wild over there.

"We'll have to find out. Skirmish formation, watch your backs and keep each other covered." Amelia commanded. She cast a muggle-repelling charm on herself and led the way with her Aurors spreading behind her in combat order.

They were halfway to the building when the chilling aura of a Dementor brushed over them.

"Sweet Circe! What is one of those things doing over here?!" One of her Aurors exclaimed.

"Nothing good." Amelia grimaced. This... she was going to have someone's head for this! "I want at least four of you ready to cast Patroni, the rest of you, look sharp and keep an eye for hostile wizards and witches!"

The Aurors approached the ravaged building from the side of a parking lot that had at least twenty cars with shattered windows. A small van merely burned and as they came closer, Amelia could see that something on fire had fallen on its roof,perhaps straight through it. There was a mangled body nearby though it was hard to make anything from it between the black robes and all the blood. Pieces of shattered broom littered the ground mingling with shard of glass and broken masonry.

"Proudfoot, check the casualty." Amelia directed while her eyes roamed over the darkened building towering above them. Its whole side facing them was a mess – there wasn't a single unbroken window and up about the tenth floor a jagged dark hole could be seen. She gave one more look at the building and shook her head. If there were hostiles holed up in there, digging them out would prove a bloody affair.

Bones saw something move within one of the almost pitch black rooms on the first floor and aimed her wand at the empty window frame. "Law enforcement! Identify yourself!" She ordered.

"Director Bones." A tired, familiar voice spoke from the shadows. "You're late and missed all the excitement." A pair of yellow eyes glowered from the darkness. "Unless you're here to try and finish the job?"

Morgana's cursed breath! What was Veil doing here?! Only then it clicked – Coventry, he owned a muggle business in this place, she had read it in the muggle papers while keeping abreast of the man's activities on British soil. Things just got much more complicated, not to mention, dangerous!

"Mr Veil, kindly explain what happened here!" Amelia demanded and continued to point an unwavering wand at the glowing eyes while her mind ran through possibilities and every new one was worse and more catastrophic.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Mandal Motors HQ**

 **Coventry**

 **UK**

Those malevolent yellow eyes continued to examine and judge Director Bones. More and more sirens approached ensuring that the stalemate simply couldn't last for long or they risked to blow up the Statutes.

"Two Dementors and three assassins, Madam." The response came out as a furious growl. There was no trace of the easy charm Veil could speak with when he wanted. This? This was pure, barely restrained fury. "Tell me, was this your Minister's brainstorm or has he lost control of his own ministry?"

Yes, no matter the details, this was going to be a complete and utter disaster, there was no sense pretending otherwise. Amelia slammed her Occlumency down hard on her own rising fury at the situation. She could already see it – Veil attacked at the place he worked, unprovoked. He would be running with this for all that it was worth and the worst thing? With the Dementors she could feel, there was no way the Ministry would escape the blame. At best someone had fucked up like Morgana cursed fool. At worst? Either Fudge or one of the other Department heads was fool enough to sanction this. However, the political fallout was something she could worry about later. First, Amelia had to somehow defuse the situation before this insanity escalated even further!

"Lass, we're far from alone." Moody growled.

Bones glanced briefly at her colleague and saw him aiming up.

"How many?" She asked.

"I can make at least ten with wands and muggle weapons. There are more people in the building as well."

Alastor didn't need to point out that Amelia and her Aurors were in the open with only the cars for cover, not to mention that Veil's people had the higher ground. It was less than ideal if things went to hell.

"We will take them off your hands and make sure whoever let them off their leash will rot in Azkaban." Amelia gave a promise she wasn't sure she would be able to honour. "My people were hit by what they described as banshee's scream. Something obviously shattered all the windows in the vicinity." The Director stated.

"That was one of the Dementors. I don't appreciate abominations trying to suck out my soul, Madam."

At those words, a ripple of unease went through many of the Aurors, especially those who had the misfortune to hear the screams.

"A Dementor!? What did you do to the damned thing?!" Scrimgeour exclaimed, fear and awe mixing in his incredulous tone.

"My best do send it straight back to the hell it crawled out, obviously." The two evil eyes shifted, showing that Veil tilted his head to one side. "You can have the other one, just don't do anything stupid. Neither I nor my people are in the mood to humour you."

Metal screeched somewhere up in the building and what sounded like a wall collapsing echoed over the parking lot. A dark shape flew out of the largest hole in the hotel, it hovered in mid-air for a moment before it fell like a rock, literally in this case. That was a Dementor all right, one bound with twisted metal rods and nailed to a section of a brick wall that shattered when they hit the ground in front of the Aurors. The soul-sucking beast hissed feebly and tried to crawl away from the building only for the metal binding it to move as if alive and tighten around it.

"Your people allowed this fuck up, Director Bones. Take your beast and clean up the mess. My people will handle the building. As far as the muggles are concerned, another OPEC backed terrorist attack happened tonight. That should make your life a bit easier. Now collect the bodies and get off my property." Veil challenged.

"What about the other Dementor?" Moody asked in a feeble attempt to cut through the mounting tension. Strictly speaking, Amelia couldn't and certainly shouldn't do what Veil demanded. By all means she should be taking him and his people in for questioning over this possible breach of the Statutes if for nothing else.

"It is in no position to bother anyone any longer." There was no mistaking the smug glee in Veils voice.

Merlin, did he really manage to kill one of those abominations?! If that was the case they needed to know how, preferably before the other Dementors decided to do something about it… like either trying to avenge their fallen or join the one force that might be a real threat to them!

Some of her Aurors couldn't contain their incredulous snorts, others muttered in awe that the damn Dementors deserved whatever they got… This was escalating out of any semblance of control and that thought nearly shattered Amelia's composure. As if anyone but possibly Veil has been in control of this disaster since it began!

Speaking about Veil, his eyes stared at Amelia as if they could peer straight into her soul.

"We need to properly investigate tonight's events and ensure that any muggles working for you are none the wiser about the existence of magic." The Director forced herself to speak calmly and in as reasonable a tone as she could manage given the circumstances. If she backed away, it would be nothing less than the whole Ministry and magical Britain as a whole doing it in front of a private citizen, for the second time in less than a month! The consequences of this becoming wide known didn't bear thinking about and Amelia had no illusions that both some of her Aurors and Veil's people will be talking.

"Do you really?" Veil sounded tired and disinterested.

Whatever he did to the Dementors apparently took a toll on him, perhaps this was the best possible time to take him down, yet it wasn't that simple. It never was that simple when there was a Dark Lord around. The mere thought of skirting her responsibilities grated, she loathed it in fact, yet Amelia was very well aware that at best tonight she might win the battle if she went for Veil, if they could take him down and hold him anyway, yet in the same strike start and likely lose a war.

The sad truth was that ever since Grindelwald, the Ministry has been losing its monopoly of power only for Voldemort to outright grind it down during the Blood War. Anyone else alive except Dumbledore and Veil's Lord would balk at the odds arrayed against them tonight, they would have either backed down or Amelia would have been sure she could take them if they didn't.

Dimitri fucking Veil? Her hands itched to curse the smug bastard. Taking him down might provide even more disastrous than backing off in the long run!

"Lass, we're out of time." Moody broke the staring match between the Director and the Dark Wizard. "Ten more of his people are moving to this side of the building and there are a lot of muggles swarming around the repelling charms, those won't hold for much longer."

"Take the body and the Dementor in custody. Where are the other two assailants?"

Something moved from the darkness between the building and a large intact van with a wet tearing sound. The broken body of a wizard rose in the air – Veil's wandless magic, Amelia presumed, a pointed reminder that tired or not, he wasn't a wizard to take on lightly. A few moments later another corpse floated in sight, this time from one of the upper floors of the building. Veil deposited them both on the ground near the first casualty the Aurors observed.

"My security will Obliviate the few muggles in my employ who saw magic. You're done here tonight, Director. Don't push what's left of my patience." Veil stated.

Bones glared at the infuriating man for a few more second before lowering her wand. Inside, her very heart screamed at the injustice of it all though thanks to her Occlumency none of her true emotions made it to her face nor voice. "Scrimgeour, you're with me, we'll speak with the muggle authorities. Moody, you're in charge of the rest. I want the Dementor locked tight in a ministry holding cell and the bodies in the morgue. Have a team go over them and find anything that might point at whoever sent them. Find how the damn things got off Azkaban and all the way here." She took a deep breath. "Mr Veil, we'll be in touch about tonight." When nerves were not so frayed, the Dark Wizard wasn't high on adrenaline and battle lust and she had Dumbledore at hand just in case yet another disaster struck. "We need better cover story than a bunch of terrorists blowing up your building, Mr Veil."

"It's plausible enough. It has happened before after all." The Dark Wizard spoke in a tone that had a bit less of an edge than before – a small mercy. "They had an experimental sound weapon meant for crowd control, their purpose was to either kidnap or kill me along with everyone working in the building. The devise failed catastrophically." Veil said, a hint of amusement sneaking in his tone.

"Merlin's hairy balls, no one will believe that tripe! The muggles don't have such things!" One of the youngest Aurors present exclaimed.

"I find your ignorance most amusing." Veil declared. The shadows shifted and the pair of sickly yellow eyes vanished. "Sergeant, get this mess presentable for the mundane authorities. Fix up a plausible crime scene, I'm sure our acquaintances in the Aurors would be happy to do the rest."

A door opened and closed and with Veil gone, it was suddenly much easier to breath and think. Damn that man!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **AN: To get ahead of the curve, we only have Veil's word implying that he managed to kill off a Dementor. That and the one he unleashed his wrath on missing, though that by itself isn't a conclusive proof.**


	39. Chapter 12 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Falling dominoes**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 _Breaking news! Terrorist attack in Coventry, UK!_

 _Last night, Mandal Motors HQ in Coventry suffered a vicious terrorist attack. The terrorists used a prototype sonic crowd control weapon, which failed catastrophically. Hundreds wounded by shattered glass._

 _An anonymous government source postulates that the terrorists might have been mercenaries paid by currently unnamed OPEC members, which would explain how they gained access to such a sophisticated equipment…_

 _The Mandal Corporation CEO, Dimitri Veil offered a brief statement through his press secretary condemning the cowardly attack and vows that no amount of terrorist actions would halt his efforts to better the world through technology…_

 _Early this morning, Mandal Motors spokeswoman confirmed that the corporation's major shareholder, Dimitri Veil was on the premises during the vicious terrorist attack. He has suffered minor injuries and is expected to make a full recovery. This makes the eight confirmed attempt on his life in four years…_

 _Manhunt for Coventry terrorists continue. Parliament set to vote on an emergency security bill to give MI5 and MI6 broader powers and funding in combating terrorism, both domestic and foreign._

 _Members of Northern Ireland Assembly condemn the Coventry attack!_

 _CEO Dimitri Veil's second Senate hearing delayed due to the terrorist attack in Coventry. Senate Intelligence Committee spokesman confirmed that Mr Veil is now expected to appear next Friday, a week after his testimony was scheduled._

* * *

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **Mandal Motors HQ**

 **Coventry**

 **UK**

"That was awesome!" Parker, the older of the two design engineers exclaimed, apparently not giving a damn that they got manhandled by four heavy armed and obviously well trained soldier and bundled in a small room deep in the building, one that lacked windows and had its only entrance guarded. It probably was meant for the maintenance staff to take a break – there was a table, five chairs and a small fridge along with a radio resting on it.

"He's a bloody Sith! I don't believe it! Did you saw his eyes?! The lighting! He's like the Emperor!" The other one, Felix, was a few years younger and even more excited.

Killington on the other hand still hoped that their drinks were drugged. The alternative… Those monsters that tried to enter through the windows and what their new employer did… Fuck, he needed a drink, preferably a whole bottle of nice, old whiskey. Those shrieks… even thinking about them sent chill down his spine, not to mention that his ears still rang from them. It was a miracle he could still hear.

Were those two cretins right? Was Veil like those people from the Star Wars movies?! That was supposed to be entertainment, damn it! The world used to make sense too…

"Do you think everything else from the movies is true? Think about it! The Helios, he's working on fusion…" Parker exclaimed.

The Director wanted to tell them that they were fools for even thinking something like that, however after what he just saw and heard, well now he wasn't ready to bet that anything at all was impossible or too far-fetched. Magic, God save them all… What else was true then? Aliens? He almost snorted at the thought, then remembered those movies and blanched. He idly listened to the engineers speculation wondering how much they got right. It was an uneasy feeling.

The door eventually opened, after at least half an hour spent stuck in the break room. Veil walked in and headed for the closest free chair where he sat heavily. One of the security guards closed the door leaving the four of them alone. That at least made the engineers finally shut up and stare at wizard with fear and awe. The first thing Veil did was to demonstrate that they didn't all have a collective hallucination. He raised an arm and the fridge opened itself as if by magic and a can of beer flew out into his hand. He snatched it from mid air, the fridge dutifully closed itself together and the man simply popped it open and took a swing as if there was nothing out of the ordinary going on.

"Gentlemen, as you no doubt guessed, your lives just got much more complicated. You have a choice to make. Option A is that you forger everything untoward that happened tonight and go home with the memories of being caught in a terrorist attack. If you're lucky, the people who modify said memories won't erase anything important, like your university degrees."

"What?!" Killington blurted out eloquently. That was pure madness, surely! Erasing memories… Yet, that man had no trouble summoning beer from the fridge and shooting lighting from his finger, probably from his ass too. Who was he to say that Veil or his people couldn't erase memories as well?

"Congratulations, you got caught in one of the largest conspiracies on the planet. There is a whole hidden magical world out there and it is illegal for normal people to know about it." Veil explained while sipping his beer. "Technically, I should be handing you to the proper authorities so they could make you forget what you saw."

"Then why aren't you?" Parker asked.

"He's a Sith! He has plans for us!" Felix said in a gleeful tone.

Veil grimaced. "Ah, those movies." He said with distaste. "You can consider that they have very vague relationship with reality."

"Palpatine isn't the Emperor?" Felix didn't let go. Usually it was easy for Killington to forget that the man was such a bloody fanboy. It helped that under normal circumstances, interactions between them were few and far between.

"Chancellor Palpatine was widely acclaimed as the best Chancellor the Republic had before the Jedi assassinated him in a misguided coup. That however is ancient history and not relevant to any of us. The second option you have is to keep your mouths shut, work for me and you'll get to play with a lot of ideas, concepts and equipment you would not have encountered otherwise. If you go out and babble, you're going to be promptly send to the crazy house because obviously you've suffered mental breakdown after tonight's terrorist attack. Your memories would be altered accordingly and no one who matters will believe you, especially if some vindictive wizard leaves you as drooling idiots."

"I don't want people to mess with my mind!" Parker exclaimed.

"Well, it's not like someone is going to believe you two if you go around telling people that Jedi are real." Killington grumbled. "I'll second the sentiment – I like my head as it is."

"Don't call him a Jedi or he'll choke you like Vader! He's a Sith!" Felix hissed.

"I'm actually beginning to have second thoughts about you two." Veil sent Felix a deadpan look that immediately shut him up. The engineer went ghostly pale too. "You act as good boys, don't babble and I won't have to use Vader's style of management, much less the Emperors." He raised his left hand and purple lighting arched between his fingers. "Do we have an understatement, gentlemen? Don't bother lying to me, I'll know it." Veil looked at them and his eyes swiftly turned sickly yellow.

"We're on board!" Parker hurried to agree.

"Yep! Are there starships!? What about aliens?!" Felix added.

"We'll be working on interstellar travel among other things once the fusion reactors are up and running. Director?" Veil turned his head to look at Killington with those awful eyes.

"It's not like I have much of a choice. I'm in."

"Do we have to call you My Lord, boss?" Felix asked.

"Keep the fanboy on a leash. My patience has already been tested one time too many lately. As far as questions from the authorities go, you didn't really see anything. There was piercing sound, the windows shattered and you got lucky not to turn into salad. After that, my security bundled you to a secure room and you missed the rest of the excitement." Veil declared. "Am I clear?"

"We nearly got deafened, however we saw nothing." Killington nodded.

"Good. We'll be in touch."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **2 September 1991**

 **unplottalbe location**

 **UK**

As far as interrogation rooms went, this one was perhaps both one of the best and worst in the magical world. It was clean, sterile and smelling of disinfectants, something Colonel Jorgensen still tried to wrap up his mind around. With magic, there was no need of such mundane means of clearing up any potential messes. Was the damned stench the whole point or did Veil merely use clearing up the place the muggle way as a punishment detail? So far he hadn't had the opportunity to figure out – his people had all behaved themselves since coming in Britain.

The oddness didn't end up with the smell. The furniture, and there was more than one would expect of such a place, looked and felt comfortable. The cell was more like a dorm room than a place to hold and interrogate people. Perhaps it was for the psychological effect? Ulfric certainly felt unsettled by the disconnect of how the room appeared and its darker purpose.

"I'm all out of patience, Colonel." Veil stated out of nowhere after spending the last ten minutes simply staring at the prisoner who refused to meet his eyes. Huh, the man was drooling too. "He only knows of a single relevant contact, the same one who had supplied him with various odd jobs before. One Bailey Quil, who is apparently known as a middle man for various interested parties both British and from abroad. He can usually be found in Manchester's magical quarter." Veil turned to look Ulfric in the eyes and the werewolf stiffened as images of an unremarkable man in his late forties or thereabouts surfaced in his mind. "Gather a team and retrieve him if he is still alive. If it was me running this little operation, I would have taken care of such loose ends before the assassins went after their target."

"I'm on it, sir. Is this all?" Jorgensen asked. If he had to be honest to himself, it was usually the little low key things, like this display of wandless mental magic, that underscored exactly how dangerous his employer was.

"Yes. The cover story stays – I'm officially recovering from minor injuries and won't be available until our next visit to Washington. Make sure no one murders the Tonkses while I'm in France."

"Dully noted. What about the prisoner?"

Veil tilted his head and glanced at the securely bound wizard. He raised a hand and Ulfric saw something pass between them. The prisoner shook, his eyes widened so large in appeared they were about to pop out of his skull and for a few seconds his muscles strained in a futile attempt to break free. The heavy duty vampire and werewolf rated restrains performed as expected, which meant that the man could do nothing but endure whatever Veil did to him. That was a very nasty piece of wandless magic too – in ten seconds flat the captive went from a fit wizard in his mid-twenties to a shivered mummy as the Dark Lord drained the very life out of his body.

If Ulfric ever needed a reminder not to cross the man who was the best thing to happen to his kind in decades, it was moments like these that reinforced how much of a bad idea fucking with Veil would be. The man knew it too and that was at least in part why he kept making such object lessons when an opportunity presented itself.

On a second thought, there was a lot to be said for overt displays of ruthlessness and power as well.

In fifteen seconds it was all done – the captive was little more than dry, parchment like skin and bones, which collapsed on themselves under the weight of the restrains. Veil drew his wand and vanished the mess before turning around and making his way towards the door. "Go get me that middleman if at all possible, Colonel."

"Sir!" Ulfric saluted with a clenched fist above his heart and followed his Lord outside.

Jorgensen didn't need to travel far. One of his strike teams was in this very building. They were already on high alert and kitted out for battle in response to the attack in Coventry. He saw Veil head towards the designate Apparation point and pop away and breathed out a sigh of relief. Say what you will about the boss, it didn't matter how reasonable he usually was. When he was at the end of his patience, he was potentially every bit as dangerous to be around as stories claimed previous Dark Lords were.

The fucked up thing was that for many people like Ulfric it didn't really matter and because the risk was worth it. Thanks to that man, they still had it better than they could have hoped to otherwise.

He walked into the nearby control room, which was wired up with heavy duty and ruinously expensive security system combining both magic and muggle means. His people were kitted out for war as expected of a quick reaction force – enchanted body armour, carbines, grenades, side-arms, wands for those good enough with them and various very useful magical devices that could come in handily.

"Officer on deck!" The Sergeant in charge of the squad shouted when he saw Ulfric enter.

"At ease. We have a retrieval mission. The target is one Bailey Quil, the middleman who arranged tonight's excitement. While the boss suspects he's been silenced for good, we're to go make sure if that's the case. If we're lucky, we're to bring him in alive for interrogation. Manchester's magical quarter, what does our Intel say about the place? The target is apparently known for frequenting it." Jorgensen briefed his people. Ideally, they would have had more time to research the target, his friends, haunts and habits in order to plan a proper operation. As things stood, they might be already too late to snatch him so in this case they would have to improvise, which was a great way for the op to go straight to hell. "Sarge, while you check on Intel, I want the rest of you to get proper restrains and less than lethal weaponry." Jorgensen added after glancing at the troopers gear. They were outfitted for high intensity combat and he knew very well that a two third of the team had began proper magical training only recently. Those boys would need adequate equipment for a capture mission as well.

"You heard the Colonel, pups. Go to the armoury and be back ASAP. Howard, you're with me on the Intel, the rest of you, carry on. Unless the Colonel has other instructions?" The NCO asked.

"That's all, Sergeant. I'm going to hit the armoury as well. I'm coming with you on this one."

The troopers wasted no time and marched towards the armoury. They were all good – well disciplined, even better trained and there wasn't a single one who had less than a year of actual field experience under their belt.

"That's your prerogative, sir. With your permission?"

"Go get the Intel." Jorgensen said and followed his men. It was always a pleasure seeing fellow werewolves act like this. It was a far cry from how they most of them had been forced to simply survive as little more than common beast not so long ago.

 **=TSA=**

 **AN:** Below are a few other links to The Sith's Apprentice if you want to support or comment on my writing. The primary discussion about this story currently happens on the space battle's forums.

www. p a treon . com - search for Delkatar's writing corner

space battles forum /the-siths-apprentice-hp-sw .668490/

alternative history forum / the-siths-apprentice-hp-sw. 449116/

sufficient velocity forum / the-siths-apprentice-sw-hp. 49530/


	40. Chapter 12 Parts 5&6

**AN: Part 6 was betaed by Flutters is Shy on the space velocity formus, thank you very much!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Falling dominoes**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **3 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

 **UK**

 _Nightmares._ Harry loathed sodding _nightmares_ with burning passion more than strong enough to stir the Force. What he experienced through the bond with his Master earlier in the night was bad enough even if it ended with a sense of reassurance and triumph before Mr Veil sealed the connection on his side. Yet, that didn't stop Harry from dreaming of his worst memories, the cupboard, the oppressive and encompassing sense of helplessness… Merlin, how he hated being weak! One of the half forgotten nightmares was odd too – a man laughing malevolently, a woman screaming and begging. That one always ended with a flash of green light and after that, Harry could recall no details.

Harry spent the whole night twisting and turning restlessly in his bed. By the time morning came, cold sweat soaked him and he felt he hadn't slept a wink, though the nightmares tended to disagree. He was the first to roll out of bed a drag himself to the bathroom for a shower. At least the hot water helped him feel somewhat alive. Perhaps he could find a way to beg, borrow or steal a Pepper up potion?

Until hid dorm-mates dragged him to the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry had to admit to himself that he was rather out of it. He paid little to no attention to his surroundings until he had some hot food in his plate, something that neither his Master nor cousin Andromeda would let him hear the end of, like ever, if they learned about it. However, right then and there, Harry found out he didn't particularly care. That morning he ignored the chatter of his classmate and simply ate with numb, single minded determination.

That happy state of affairs continued until the morning post arrived on the wing of a few hundred owls. The buzzing sound of excited students covering the Great Hall rose up a notch only to promptly die to nothing when boys and girls opened their newspapers.

"Potter, someone tried to off your Master last night!" An enthusiast proclaimed from the Gryffindor table.

Harry's head snapped in that direction and almost smashed a spoonful of honeyed porridge into his cheek. He glared at the lions before turning his attention to his housemates. "What is that rag saying this time?" He demanded, the food momentarily forgotten.

"Three wizards and a Dementor went after him." Crawley proclaimed aloud. "Oh, my. Unconfirmed rumours claim that there were two of those monsters. Your Master either sent the second one running, or well… There must be some pretty persistent rumours all over the ministry if the Prophet dares to insinuate that Mr Veil might have actually killed one of those things." Samantha put down the paper. "More power to him, I hope he did that beast in." She added with a smile. "This is going to put the kneezle among the owls, boys and girls." She looked over the younger students. "Keep yourselves in large groups. Fear makes people do dumb things and this is going to scare certain parties even more than they already were."

Harry's mind whirled in futile attempt to comprehend what he just heard and figure out what the implications were going to be. What he knew for sure was that now he had an explanation about what he experienced the previous evening. The source of his nightmares was obvious now as well. He hoped that his Master had taken out the monster responsible as well. What little he had learned about the Dementors crept him out!

The boy who didn't sleep properly, huffed at all the attention divided between him and the newspapers. This was going to be another one of those days. So much for hoping that the furrow would simply die down.

"The way I hear it, people have been trying to kill my Master at least a few times each year for some time now." Harry frowned at how the whole Slytherin table watched him with rapt attention. Just to spite them, he slowly and very deliberately put the spoonful of porridge in his mouth and began to methodically chew the sweet food.

"I bet Mr Veil kidnapped the Dementor to experiment on it so he could either really kill it for good or find a way to control them!" Tracey blurted out making Daphne face-palm in frustration.

Harry gave the excitable girl a side-long glance. He wouldn't put it past his Master to do something like that. In fact, he really didn't want to think what his Master might have under lock and key in Europe. Some things were better left in the dark.

"I can't possibly know, Tracey. I was in my dorm playing Exploding Snap last night. Contrary to popular belief, my Master doesn't tell me anywhere near everything about his work." Nor does he teach me everything he knows, yet anyway, Harry thought.

"I hope he managed to kill it." A large boned first year girl, Bulstrode was it, murmured. "One of those monsters kissed my uncle a few years back." She said in a quiet whisper.

The excited yet wary chatter across the Great Hall picked up in intensity with every passing moment and it went up and up until it was nearly a constant roar.

"It must be a magic most dark to kill one of those!" A Gryffindor proclaimed.

"Oh, get over yourself, Kyle! Everyone knows that only the Patronus scares them! Whatever he used, if her really managed to kill one, it couldn't have been dark!" A Ravenclaw upper year girl scoffed aloud.

Breakfast only went downhill from there. It took the Headmaster producing a loud bang with his wand to make the noise finally stop.

"That's quite enough, students. While we do encourage friendly rivalry and discussion, this is a bit much." Dumbledore stated in a disapproving grandfatherly tone.

"Sir, you're the Chief Warlock! Do you know if what they wrote in the paper is true?" Another older Ravenclaw asked.

"All I can confirm is that last night three wizard attacked a location in muggle Coventry. Whatever happened, there was extensive damage with a few hundred wounded, fortunately no fatalities among the bystanders. Three wizards did lose their lives last night carrying out the attack and they did indeed have at least one Dementor with them. Said creature is currently Ministry custody and the whole accident is under investigation by the DMLE. What the Prophet glosses over is that the attack was a serious breach in the Statutes of Secrecy that have the DMLE and the Obliviators working the whole night to keep magic a secret. I can't possibly give details on an ongoing investigation. Now, please do continue your breakfast in a civil manner."

Dumbledore's statement did serve its purpose. While the Great Hall continued to buzz with excited conversations, the noise level was significantly lower than before. Finally, breakfast was over and Harry could get away from some of the stares. It was time to see if Transfiguration would be one of the good classes or another colossal waste of time. Either way, he doubted it would be a nap time like History, something he found sorely missing after last night.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **3 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

 **UK**

Harry stumbled into the Transfiguration's classroom and made his way to the closest desk doing a passing imitation of a shambling zombie, something that didn't go unnoticed. His behaviour merely made even his Slytherin classmates look at him oddly and whisper. All things considered, it was a good thing that he was already beyond caring. Harry operated on an auto-pilot, he got his textbook, parchment, quill and ink-pot out on the desk and crashed on the chair. All he cared about was to catch a bit of shut-eye before the Professor arrived. McGongall was absent still, the only thing that waited for them in the large classroom was a tabby cat resting on their teacher's desk. Was it just him, or did the feline look almost as tired as he felt? He found it hard to care and promptly crossed his arms on the desk, rested his head on then and that was it for the time being.

The blissful rest lasted all too short and it wasn't McGongall who interrupted him. Hurricane Granger blew into the classroom, planted her school bag on the closest desk to Harry and unceremoniously went to him and shook his shoulder to the bemusement and anticipation of the other Slytherins.

"Harry! Get up Harry!" Hermione ordered. "Is Mr Veil all right!? How could something so terrible happen?!" she franticly spoke so fast that no one could fully understand her.

"'Mione!" Harry grunted at the rude disruption. "Get off!" He snapped and shook off the dainty hand that shook him awake. "What? Where?" His head snapped up and he looked widely enough to the smirks and laugher of many students. "Bloody bastards," he grumbled and snapped his head around to glare at Hermione. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? Someone tried to murder Mr Veil last night, again I might add and you're here this morning without a care in the world!" the Ravenclaw girl hissed back. "Instead of being worried, you can't wait to sleep, in class no less!" she sent him an offended look.

"My Master's all right. He's faced worse and got off scot-free," Harry scoffed. If anyone wasn't all right, it was him due to the lack of sleep thanks to said Master and his shenanigans!

Granger stomped her foot in frustration. Harry idly noted that she was vexed enough to try and strangle him in the spot, something that instead of scaring or infuriating him, he found oddly exciting.

"That's quite enough, students!" A firm and strict no-nonsense voice stopped the argument in its tracks. "Mr Potter, five points from Slytherin for your language. Ms Granger, five points from Ravenclaw for your thoughtless behaviour. Sit down, all of you."

Everyone halted in their tracks and their head snapped around to stare at the Professor who stood in front of her desk giving them all disapproving looks. McGongall wasn't amused in the slightest, and Harry didn't need his still developing emphatic sense to figure it out. You had to be brain-dead not to notice how she radiated the emotion. Every student not already sitting behind their chosen desk meekly ran to do so. Harry noticed with ill suppressed and sickening glee how mortified Granger felt at being caught doing something wrong, it both made him feel well and disturbed him at the same time.

"I will have no fooling around in my class. While very useful and versatile, Transfiguration can be one of the most dangerous subjects you'll learn at Hogwarts. In this class you will learn how to shape the world around you according to your will. You will learn how to reshape the mundane into whatever you need with a few exceptions," in a blink of an eye, McGongall had her wand in hand – no one saw where she got it from, she was that fast. A single slash and whispered incantation twisted and solidified the air in front of her. It turned into a two meter tall ornate suit of armour holding a massive two handed sword in its hands.

The knight turned its helmet around as if searching for threats. The Professor's right shoulder twitched, her wand hand hidden by the bulk of the armour and the construct dissolved into thin air.

That demonstration thoroughly awoke Harry and he stared at McGongall wide-eyed. This was awesome! He had to learn how to do it! The excited exclamation that came from all around him made it clear that he wasn't the only one impressed.

"You will learn how to animate matter into copies of living, breathing beings." McGongall continued, her wand moving in a complicated motion, she whispered another incantation and her desk changed. It shrunk and twisted, yet expanded at the same time and within moments in its place sat a rather confused looking pig. It looked curious enough and sniffed the air before the Professor turned it back into her desk. "Those of you talented and dedicated enough might even reach one of the pinnacles of Transfiguration before graduating and unlock their Animagus forms," she continued. "However, as exciting and useful Transfiguration can be, the inherent dangers are not to be underestimated. The first thing you will learn in this class is what absolutely not to do or you will face severe punishments, perhaps even expulsion!" McGongall declared gravely and her piercing eyes bore into the students to better send the message across.

"Quills and parchment out. You _will_ write this down," the Professor ordered and waited until everyone was ready. "The two most common mishaps in Transfigurations pertain attempts of human Transfiguration or the consumption of transfigured food or drink. You will under no circumstances even _think_ about attempting such stunts without express permission and my personal supervision. In fact, while in school, transfiguring food and drinks are expressly forbidden, the consumptions of transfigured food more so!" McGongall stressed. "I'll cover the dangers of imperfect human transfiguration first. Doing so, to either yourselves or others carry many risks. You could be permanently struck that way either in full or in part!"

That little fact was enough to make the fear of many of Harry's classmates spike, drowning the room in its stench. It was… he grit his teeth. It was a pleasant sensation, though not as much as when he was the cause of said fear.

"Further, if not done right, even if the physical aspect can be reversal, there might be mental contamination. Even if simply temporarily, that might cause the transfigured person to lash out and maul people while changed. Worse, some aspects, depending on the form, might carry over even if you're successfully changed back to human."

That certainly wasn't something that Harry wanted to risk, like ever! He jolted down the warning, underlined it, trice and circled it for good measure.

"The primary danger of consuming transfigured food is simple, yet final. After eating or drinking transfigured substances, they will break down in your body. While not necessary harmful if you've merely changed one food into another – if, and I can't stress this enough, if you've done it right!" McGongall glowered, "It's possible to get off unharmed, something that merely makes it more dangerous. Because if you make even a tiny mistake, or Merlin forbid, some damn fool transfiguring inedible substance into food, when it changes back into your stomachs, intestines or even blood, you'll experienced excruciating pain and crippling if not fatal injuries! If someone transfigures food and gives it to a classmate, I will see you either expelled or in Azkaban depending on the circumstances!" McGongall vowed.

Harry had no illusions, she was deadly serious!

The next thing he thought was that Transfiguration was wicked good!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **AN:** Below are a few other links to The Sith's Apprentice if you want to support or comment on my writing. The primary discussion about this story currently happens on the space battle's forums.

www. p a treon . com - search for Delkatar's writing corner

space battles forum /the-siths-apprentice-hp-sw .668490/

alternative history forum / the-siths-apprentice-hp-sw. 449116/

sufficient velocity forum / the-siths-apprentice-sw-hp. 49530/


	41. Chapter 12 Parts 7&8

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Falling dominoes**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **3 September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

 **UK**

After Transfiguration, the Slytherins retired to their common room – they had what was to be a customary free period before lunch for most days of the therm. In the future, that time might be a great time to prepare for afternoon classes or do homework, however for Harry it simply meant an opportunity for some sorely needed shut-eye. He said so to his dorm-mates and dragged himself to his room paying no real attention to the first year girls bickering with Tracey over one innate thing or another. Harry went out like a candle in a storm the moment his head touched the pillow, yet whatever rest he got, it was rudely interrupted by a stream of cold water that had him jumping up with a curse.

"Bloody wankers!" Harry snapped and his fingers convulsively opened and closed seeking the comforting presence of his wand.

"It's time for lunch, mate." Blaise answered with an unapologetic grin and saluted him with his own wand - mahogany, rather long one. The dark skinned boy vanished out of the door before Harry's mind could reboot enough to properly retaliate.

"Wanker!" Potter repeated, without real heat this time and dragged himself up. He looked at his wet robes and growled. He didn't know a proper drying charm yet, damn it!

Harry managed to change clothes and drag himself to the Great Hall for lunch and for the first time in his life he regretted not having access to coffee or something stronger to keep him awake. He had to make do with warm, not particularly strong or refreshing tea. The less said about the pumpkin juice the better - it wasn't bad per se, but it really wasn't Harry's cup of tea.

The rest of the lunch flew past his head, while everyone for once was too busy dealing with Tracey's antics to pay Potter much attention, something he guessed he should have been grateful for.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

Astronomy turned out, had both theoretical and practical classes, both carried out at the lone tower outside the castle proper. At least, for the day time theory-crafting, they didn't need to walk up all those stairs up to the roof, which was a positive in Harry's mind. He didn't really know how pointless busy work he could tolerate after last night. He was bone deep tired, yet becoming irritable and his temper was doing its best to emulate Uncle Vernon, which all things considered could never be a good thing. On the bright side, this was Harry's first class together with the Hufflepuffs, which meant meeting notable people like Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones amongst others. Yet, on the down side - he wasn't really in the state of mind to make even a small talk, much less good first impression.

In this instance, Draco came to the rescue when the Hufflepuffs filed into the large-ish class room at the base of the tower – which was kinda larger from the inside than it was from outside.

"Greg, Goyle! What happened to you two?!" Malfoy exclaimed when his two minions filed in as well.

Class with the Hufflepuffs turned out to be a rather quiet and calm affair – the only notable disruptions came from people glancing and whispering Harry's way, either that or them being too busy being distracted by Draco and his minions comparing notes. Whatever theory the professor, one Aurora Sinistra, tried to impart, went through Potter's mind without leaving any lasting impression. In his hazy state, Harry wasn't too sure if it was because the subject was delivered in a dry and boring manner or if he was simply that out of it. Once it was all done and over with, he merely followed the flow of Slytherins to their Charms classroom, which if his tired brain was correct, would be shared with the Gryffindors. That, well, that wasn't something Harry was looking up to, especially given his temper began to fray on the seams as the day progressed.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Darth Baras' lab**

 **unplottable location**

 **somewhere on the Balkans**

As far as Dark Lords labs went, this one was on the brighter and cheerful side. Contrary to expectations, there were no unspeakable experiments meant to push the envelope of the darkest of magics, no human sacrifice for fun and profit, or well, worse. At least that was the usual state of affairs.

Today, the situation was rather different – Veil was in his full Dark Lord regalia, malevolent lighting crackled, piercing, unearthly shrieks echoed through sound-proofed halls and the stench of death was heavy in the air. If he was to be honest with himself, it was actually easy to forget that he was oath bound as a vassal to an actual Dark Lord for most of the time, especially lately, what his liege did was if not outright legal, then at least it skirted the boundaries of the laws – both muggle and magical. Of course, there were a few notable exceptions, however Ignatius couldn't say that his Lord hadn't been provoked.

However, on rare days like this one, Vance could swear to his grave that people like Voldemort had nothing on his liege on the danger department if nothing else. Veil didn't take lightly on being spited and it wasn't long after entering that man's service when Ignatius figured out that his Lord had a thing about people or being claiming to be immortal. He had an almost pathological need to prove them wrong.

Case in point, they were in the actual dungeon of the complex, which was complete with all the paraphernalia – chains, torture racks, all kinds of wicked instruments meant to cause pain, the works. Fortunately for everyone involved, the place had seen actual use as a torture chamber only on three previous occasions and hopefully no one would be insane enough to provoke Vance's Lord a fourth time to such an extent. Ignatius prayed so anyway and he was trying to think about everything and anything else but what Veil was currently doing.

The Dementor his Lord and Master took during the attack in London was strapped securely with magically reinforced steel cables, weighted down with chains and bound with enough charms and enchantments to fry a small army, which really took much less time than anyone would have guessed. No matter how terrible and unkillable those things appeared, if you had a way to block their aura, they actually weren't that physically strong, nor did they had some special magic to help them get away… Perhaps the unnatural chill they spread did count, it might have been enough to eventually weaken enough a lot of bindings that might have been used to keep a Dementor bound.

This one in particular did its best to get away – its screams were loud and piercing enough to deafen and unprotected human, everything in the torture chamber was covered in a fine layer of frost and its aura… if it wasn't for the three Patroni inside it would be practically unbearable… for everyone but his Lord, who merely got more and more furious under its influence. As far as the object strapped on the torture rack, well so far Veil had tried a lot of methods to off the damn thing for good and put it out of everyone's misery. So far, no joy.

The damn thing did still feel pain at least so it wasn't just staying there aping Veil's efforts, which was a small blessing. His Lord was in a bad enough state of mind already. Speaking of which… A new Patronus flew through the solid metal door at their back – it was a slab of alloyed and enchanted metal reinforced with Goblin forged steel, which for most Witches and Wizards the world over would have been ruinously expensive, unaffordably so in most cases. The little falcon soared through the room, screeched once and landed lightly on a metal rafter covered with hooks, scalpels and all others implements Vance didn't even want to think what someone would use for. He was a hardened mercenary, he had seen and done a lot of things he wasn't proud of, things that would break many a civilian by simply witnessing them, yet the things his Lord could come with when he put his mind to… A shudder went down Vance's spine and this time it wasn't thanks to the Dementor, far from it. He still had some nightmares from the last time he saw this room put to use for its original purpose.

Veil paused and stared at the Patronus, who glared right back. The Dark Lord put away the enchanted thermite he intended to try burn off the Dementor's head with and huffed. "All right, you bastards, who told my wife about this?"

Before anyone could think of a proper lie – not that it would have helped, the massive door shook as its many magical locks began to unlock one after another.

"We'll be having words about need to know and..." Veil hissed just as the door slid open soundlessly and an ethereal apparition glided in.

"And what I do need to know, husband mine?" A husky, sensual voice cut like a knife through the sudden silence.

"We both know how one of those things would affect you, love..." Veil trailed off when a pair of expressive emerald eyes shifted in piercing blue. Within a heartbeat the next best thing to a goddess stepped down to earth shifted into something cold, deadly and dangerous. The soft oval of her heart shaped face subtly shifted into something much sharper. Her full sensual lips turned into thin lines revealing a pair of dainty fangs, which grew larger and sharper as the veneer of humanity bled away to be replaced by a mix between a vampire's visage and that of a furious Veela in her true form.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 8**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Darth Baras' lab**

 **unplottable location**

 **somewhere in the Balkans**

Let it never be said that the open, overt Dark Lords, most notably Grindelwald and Voldemort in Europe this century alone, are not necessary the worst of their kind. Oh, they might touch most people, cause the most wide spread terror and destruction, yet those like them are merely a fraction of the number of Witches and Wizards who had earned such a lofty title during the centuries. That was one of the little dirty secrets of the magical world, one that you would seldom find written about in a book or taught in school.

There was another breed of Dark Lords, those whose ambitions and interests had nothing to do with world domination or even taking open control of a single, small country. Those were the ones who were generally happy to be left alone with their experiments. People like Herpo the Foul, who was credited with creating the Horcruxes, currently more relevant – the madman whose experiments gave birth to the Dementors at Azkaban. Unless you caught their attention, the odds of which were fortunately very low, then you were likely to be generally safe from them even if you were their next door neighbour. That is until or unless they needed more test subjects or were ready to show their successes to the world.

His Lady, Ignatius Vance knew very well, hadn't been so lucky. She had been born a Veela and that was precisely what a certain Dark Lord was interested in. As her twisted Alure washed over him, he had to put forth every last bit of willpower and magic into his Occlumency shields in order not to fall to his knees and beg her for the privilege to serve her, as toy, a snack or anything else she might desire. At the same time, there was a part deep within his mind that could feel nothing but primitive terror at being trapped in a small cave with an apex predator. This was the kind of monster that imbued instinctual fear of the dark and saw countless of their ancestors huddle in caves around hastily put up fires praying that they wouldn't be on the menu that night.

"Love, I know you're furious with me, however I must beseech you to cut down on the theatrics. You're about to break my vassals and that is something that I can not allow." Just like that, his Lord's voice and bearing turned grave as he stood up against the hungry monster. "Besides, you'll regret it later. You actually do like a few of those rascals." He added in a softer tone.

Shining blue eyes turned to look at Ignatius and he just knew they stared straight into his soul. His knees shook at the presence that touched his Occlumency shields for the briefest of moments and knew without a shadow of a doubt that whatever his Lady was in her human guise – which was usually a very nice lass, there was a ravenous monster right below the surface, one that would gleefully consume him without a pause. The glowing sapphires dimmed a bit and the presence pulled pack as if stung. Vance knew very well that it was still here, deep down he could still feel the predator, who thankfully no longer deemed him interesting enough to eat or _worse,_ play with. His Lady huffed and lowered her head. The fine lustrous sheen of tiny black feathers melted back into her skin leaving it with a healthy, eye catching glow that many women and a lot of men would happily murder for. Yet, the sharp lines of her face never wavered nor did the fangs retract into the almost adorable visage they usually had.

"Explain yourself, husband."

"Better." Veil let out a breath. "That thing managed to push my buttons." He jabbed a thumb at the bound Dementor, who curiously enough had gotten utterly silent and still. "By the way, you managed to terrify the bloody thing along with my staff, you never cease to amaze, beautiful."

"Compliments will get you nowhere right now, husband. Why do you have one of those," The terrible goddess put up an impressive sneer as she glared at the bound demon.

"Some enthusiast sent a couple of those along with a wizard hit squad after me in Coventry." Veil gave a succinct and to the point explanation of what had happened back home.

"So? Instead of spending your day with us as you promised, why are you in here? I'm waiting." The blue eyes narrowed dangerously and even if his Lady had her head and attention turned away from Vance, all he could still see them boring into his Lord.

This was just the third time Ignatius saw his Lord actually blanch and he was sure it wasn't faked at all. Veil sighed, his shoulders slumped and he drew a gloved hand down across his face.

"I've fucked up by the numbers, didn't I?"

"Again." The goddess answer could have frozen the Arctic itself. "There's mission creep as you put it, then there's what you've been up to lately. Is there really a point to your shenanigans or are you up to the usual Dark Lord rot?"

Veil opened his mouth to answer then a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.

"I do already have almost everything I want." He eventually said.

"Yet it is obvious not enough or we wouldn't be in this dungeon right now. When will it be enough, husband? When will you let these games behind?"

"When no one would even dare think coming near either of you with ill intent." Something shifted in his Lord's eyes and they blazed poisonous yellow. "I've been where I'm right now, I let myself get complacent, to believe that my enemies or those who covet my power, or the power of those I care about would not touch us. And I lost it all!" With every word uttered, Veil's voice gathered power until he was shouting at the end. There was power in his voice too that shook the whole chamber and everyone within.

For a few moments, his Lady's shoulders dropped too and she tilted her head in fond exasperation – or it would have been if she was a human woman. The monster on display however, it merely looked curious. Then she stood straight, tall and angry. "You dare?!" She hissed furious – a perfect visage of an angry deity ready to smite the mortals who dared offend it. "What do you take me for? Some sheltered summer flower?!" As she spoke, any pretence of humanity drained out of her form letting a proud hunter of the night preen on display. "A fragile human girl?!" Fire and ice gathered around her lithe form – an inferno covered her feathers while razor sharp ice daggers formed from the humidity in the air to float like a halo around her.

"Ashara was powerful too, in some respect more powerful than you are right now. Yet she died in my arms anyway, after being attacked in our own home."

"This is it? This is your explanation?" The monster laughed. "You, the big scary Dark Lord, are afraid."

"For you? Always."

"But not from me, even as all everyone else in here could do is held to their sanity by the skin of their teeth."

"You're the closest thing I have to a peer on this world, one of the few people who could grow into my equal. Even if I wasn't in love with you, that would have made you someone precious to me." Veil shrugged. "I believe we've had this conversation before, my love. I've served real monsters, I've been one, in many respects I'm still one. In comparison, as beautiful and terrible to behold as you are, a monster you are not. Merely a very dangerous and exotic woman."

"The tales you've told us, the dream-like memories you've shown us..." She trailed out. "That place was most beautiful, yet had a terrifying side below all the glitter." The fires went out like candles in the wind and the ice daggers dissolved into a shower of sparkling snowflakes. Vance's Lady walked towards his Lord and with every step her inhuman features bled away leaving in their wake the stunningly beautiful and voluptuous Veela he was sworn to protect with his life. As if she needed protection. "This cannot continue, Dimitri. I will not allow it! Do you think me blind? I've seen enough of you life from before. I can see you're slipping back into that mindset." There was something more in there, something left unsaid that both his Lord and Lady seemed to know very well.

"Well, then it seems that first I need to make it up to you two and then re-evaluate and overhaul my plans, won't I?"

"Our plans, husband. _Our plans."_


	42. Chapter 13 Parts 1&2

**AN: This update needs a beta!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Dark Lord Rising**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **January 1986**

 **Gorski Castle**

 **Bulgaria**

His family has stood tall and proud for over a thousand years – before even the rise of the First Bulgarian Kingdom in these lands. Of course, then it went by another name, that of powerful local shamans who married into the new lords of the land when they saw an opportunity to further advance their cause. It was a state of affairs that persisted throughout the centuries – the people who ruled openly both in the muggle and magical world changed, yet the family preserved, learned, grew more powerful and all the while kept its ancient traditions and incorporated new ones, those that made them even stronger.

Grindelwalds rise and fall, Voldemort far off in Britain and now this new Dark Lord who suddenly revealed himself – they weren't going to change anything. The family would endure, that Ilia Gorski swore to himself.

"What peeve does this man, Baras was it, has with me?" He asked of his guest.

They sat in one of the large guest halls of the castle, furnished richly and tastefully enough that even the most decadent king of old wouldn't find a fault if he tried. The tall well lit chamber was a statement – it casually demonstrated more wealth and power than most prominent families in the country had combined.

"Ahem..." Minister Kniajev took a large mouthful of his wine – which was very expensive, one of the last recovered during the fall of Constantinople, though in Ilia's mind not that good, and grimaced. "Best guess? He's fond of Veelas."

"Who isn't?" Gorski allowed himself to share a conspirational smirk with his guest. "That certainly doesn't explain why he went after our friends so viciously and now this mess in Romania – that greenhouse supplies some important ingredients for my potions business at premium prices. That's no coincidence my friend." Ilia pronounced gravely. "Its enemy action, plain an simple. This Veil pawn, he is acting against us. I'm your strongest supporter, friend. That man and his Lord, they're ultimately aiming at you and your position using that bitch Varshenska."

Kniajev gulped another mouthful of wine and nodded with a thoughtful expression on his face. "The idea has crossed my mind." He allowed.

Gorski had hard time believing that – he hadn't ensured Kniajev's election because of the man's mind, on the contrary, the Minister was a weak and easily led creature, a perfect tool to run the day to day affairs of the Ministry as long as he let the other bureaucrats do their jobs unmolested. It was an agreement that suited them both very well. Kniajev got his rewards and didn't really have to do much work at all while for all intents and purposes, the Ministry let Gorski do whatever he wished as long as he wasn't too blatant about it and even then things could usually be smoothed over.

Now however, a not insignificant part of his enforcers got butchered like imbeciles with nothing to show for it. Was this Dark Lord a descendent of an old enemy of the family believed destroyed? That was a worrying possibility, it meant that there might not be a way to negotiate out of this mess if direct action failed to remove the problem. Speaking of direct actions, Ilia looked at the intricately painted parchment the Minister brought with him. He hadn't opened it yet, he would need to check for all kinds of nasty surprised before he dared to considering he had a Dark Lord with ill intent after his skin, however Gorski could guess what was inside.

He had to give it to the bitch, she had done her homework. Given his status and procivilities, he might very well be forced to answer the challenge he was sure the parchment represented. Even if he could find a way out of it without losing face and magic, Gorski had no illusions that his enemies would continue to push and probe until he had no choice but to meet them openly anyway and the longer he delayed, the longer they would have to erode his power, hunt down his agents and bind cowards to their cause using the fear of the new Dark Lord.

Well, two could play this game. The Dark Lord or at leash his most visible agent so far had already made enemies of certain weres who even now had people searching for them.

"My friend, I'll need a free hand in dealing with this issue." Ilia clasped the Minister's shoulder. "For both our sakes." He added gravely.

"Sure, whatever you need! Just make this go away!" Kniajev nodded.

Gorski wondered how many of the Ministry workers would react if they could see their Minister right now. Credit where credit is due, Kniajev did have a few somewhat redeeming qualities – like the fact that when he wanted to he could project an image of being competent, as long as he let the actual competent people run things and kept his mouth shut as much as possible anyway. Ilia dismissed that amusing thought and continued to plan while he went on to reassure Kniajev that he had everything under control and there was nothing to worry about, thank you very much.

Two glasses of wine later, the Minister finally had his nerves under control and had plastered a mask of vague intelligence and competence – which was useful when he left to meet with his Auror escort who would bring him to his home. As his guest and his guards left, Ilia summoned his wand and began casting at the parchment from safe distance. Finding no unpleasant surprises he ordered a House Elf to open it anyway and to raise it up so he could read the contents from afar.

The text was short and to the point, written in runes with animal blood no less as it should be. It was a challenge all right, one observing proper old forms too. Legally speaking, this didn't mean much. Magically however, considering all the rituals Gorski had undergone to bind himself closer to the ancient spirit Perun who had once been worshipped by his ancestors as a god? While failing to meet this challenge wouldn't have too grave consequences – like potentially losing his magic or life, he would suffer some backslash from his patron, which would not only be very painful but cost him some of his painstakingly gathered might.

Ilia smiled a crooked smile. This was the whole point of the exercise, obviously. If he refused the challenge, if he didn't fight now, he might very well have to do it later anyway, when he would be weaker and in disfavour.

"A duel, eh? Between either me or my chosen champion and Varshenska own champion. To redress grave injustice no less." Ilia muttered. How delightfully old fashioned. The parchment positively radiated magic – it was the real deal and the challenge was legitimate. How did she… Gorski chuckled. There was a Veela blood in Varshenska, some anyway, not really enough to garner his interest but obviously enough for this purpose. The second part of this little puzzle was obvious – at least a few of her own ancestors were shamans, that was a given for every one of the remaining ancient families in Bulgaria. So she that was how she had the right to issue the challenge and be accepted. Cheeky Veelas, when he finally got his hands on them, he would make his appreciation for their cunning perfectly clear while he slowly broke them to be the perfect little pets. However, business before pleasure first.

Gorski stood up and headed for the ancient temple and supply rooms his ancestors built the castle on top of. There he had what he needed to properly answer the challenge and once that was done, he had some weres to contact and a hunt to organize. Even if Varshenska's champion arrived on time for the duel and in one piece, he wouldn't be at hundred percent. If the weres actually managed to do this Veil in, well then Ilia would get to dance with the bitch herself and show her the error of her ways before he tore out her still beating heart and fed it to her.

Well, if he was to be honest with himself, he was going to do that anyway the moment that woman overstepped her station and dared cross him.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **January 1986**

 **Gorski Castle**

 **Bulgaria**

When a man with the influence and contacts Ilia Gorski possessed wanted to meet someone yesterday, they generally came running to said person's doorstep as soon as possible. Zara Jelik was no exception. She might have been the Alpha of a quite large werewolf pack, one that had many experienced combatants as members, however as someone who had had made their home on the Balkans, not to mention was born and raised in the region, she was well aware what the name Gorski meant. The man had his own small army of Dark Creatures – werewolves, vampires and worse on his beck and call and if so desired he could send the only relevant Ministry in the region on her people forcing them to flee their home if they were lucky.

When she arrived at the castle, a pair of large battle scarred wizards met her. They examined her with cold dead eyes and expertly scanned her for any and all weapons she might have carried. Knowing better than to push her luck, Zara had left behind all but her wand and a wickedly sharp poisoned dagger, which she handled to the security before being let past the outer defences. As she stepped through, it was like walking through thick icy water – there were ancient and deadly magics weaved both in the ground below her feet and in the walls towering high above her. The sense of the defences was heavy and oppressive – clear sign that they were very much active and likely put on war footing.

What on Earth had Gorski concerned enough to go to such lengths?!

The wizards silently led her through multiple corridors until they arrived in a cavernous audience room – it was clear that once upon a time this was the throne room of the castle. In contrast to the passages she crossed to get in here, there weren't many decorations visible. In fact all she could see were multiple suits of well maintained medieval armour lining the walls. They were likely enchanted to hell and back and ready to come alive and cut apart any attacker that made it this far.

Zara found the man who demanded her presence sitting on an intricately carved wooden throne on a raised dais at the far end of the chamber. She didn't notice him immediately because he was almost completely hidden in shadows and all she could smell was the heavy stench of polish coming from the dragon hide armour hidden below the duelling robes of the wizards flanking her.

"Gospodin Gorski." Zara walked in front of the throne and gave the man a deep, respectful bow. What was with Wizards of old families and their need for theatrics?! What a bloody waste of time this posturing was going to be, Zara wisely kept those thoughts to herself.

"Jelik, the Alpha." The Wizard stated drily.

The werewolf rose back up and simply stared at her host trying to make up his features through the shadows obscuring him. He stared right back with irises that Zara could have sworn glowed fiery red. What had this madman done to himself she wondered in the safety of her own mind. Her wolf bristled and awoke from its slumber, its presence moving deep within her mind. It could sense something within this man and it had the cursed spirit wary.

"We have a common problem, Ms Jelik. The same man who so rudely murdered a few of your wolves has been causing me some minor issues. I would see him torn piece by piece."

Zara remained silent, however her eyes told it all – why was this her problem?

"I want this Dimitri Veil, that's the fool's name, dealt with within the week. His last known location was a small village in Romania, Kretchin, where he had the temerity to take over a greenhouse working for me. I want the owners, the Tubors, made an example of along with Veil. Do so, Alpha and you will be richly rewarded along with your pack. Fail me in this and I will have you hunted like the useless mutts you would have proved yourselves to be."

So that was how it was going to be. Hells and damnation, she loathed dealing with arrogant bastards like this one! One of the things that stopped her from snarling and showing what she thought about the marching orders Gorski just issued her without by your leave, was the fact that her wolf remained quiet and merely watched from behind her eyes. It was disturbed enough not to want to lash at this clear challenge to their authority as an Alpha.

That more than anything told her how careful she should be in dealing with this man.

"Then I would have to visit Romania. I hear its nice this time of the year. By your leave, Mr Gorski? I have to go gather my wolves for a hunt it seems."

"Go." With those words, Gorski sunk in the shadows covering his throne and his presence simply melted out of the chamber leaving Zara wonder if he had really been physically present at all.

"Follow us." One of the guards spoke in a gravel like voice.

 **=TSA=**

A few hours later, Zara managed to gather all her wolves searching for their quarry in Sofia and they Apparated back to their base in Montenegro where she quickly called a war council. Within half an hour all available warriors she had were in the large-ish meeting room where Night Wolves planned how to prosecute their contracts – from logistics to the fun bloody parts.

The Alpha wasted no time and laid down the predicament they found themselves in for all her men and women to hear.

"Well, isn't this one sticky mess," Her XO, Hans Kirsch, rasped. His once pleasant singing voice had been gone for almost a decade now after a particularly dangerous witch they tangled with caught him in the throat with a nasty dark curse. He was lucky to be alive though the price for survival was nothing to scoff at. The large man grimaced in distaste once Zara finished with her explanation. "What do we know about this Dimitri Veil? Are we sure he's the one who tangled with our people? Didn't they have a run with a Dark Lord wannable or something?"

As the one left to mind the shop, Hans has been out of the loop on the hunt Jelik carried out in Sofia.

"Rumour has it that he apparently works for said Dark Lord. There have been some pretty wild tales making their rounds throughout the capital over the past few days." One of the wolves who accompanied Zara explained. "They claim that the Dark Lord – Baras, revealed himself in Romania in front of Bulgarian Auror Teams, handled them their asses without really hurting anyone and sent them back home with their tails between their legs." The lean wiry werewolf shrugged. "That's what they tell anyway. No idea how much of it is true and how much the usual bullshit."

"Guess where Gorski wants us to go?" Zara grimaced. It was one thing to tangle with a Dark Wizard – they did it during almost every contract they took, either working for such, against them or both.

"That same place in Romania?" Hans deadpanned.

"We're apparently to make an example of the people who Veil had convinced to switch sides and work for him instead of Gorski. The Tubors whoever those are."

"Boss-lady, you apparently didn't hear the latest rumours..." One of the younger wolves who came to hunt in Bulgaria trailed out suddenly smelling apprehensive when everyone sitting around the table turned to look at him. "I got drinking in that bar the Bulgarian Aurors favour, right?" He nervously licked his lips. "This morning a couple of them I've been having a pint or two with came and went deep in their cups. Apparently they have been under debriefing by the ICW investigator ever since they met that Dark Lord. One of them was the XO of the second Auror Team that went to Romania..." The young werewolf went on to explain what he could get from his new drinking buddies about the Dark Lord and his message.

"Fuck me with a broken broom!" Hans exclaimed when it was all over. "Gogol, are you sure that's exactly what he told you?"

"Well, the Senior Auror was way in his cups when I managed to get him talking, but that's what he said." The young man nodded frantically.

"Gorski wants us to go after a Dark Lord's apprentice, not just any odd Dark Lord but one who at least claims to support our plight." Zara's left eyebrow began to twitch and her face twisted into a furious snarl. "Yet, that same apprentice, Veil, if not the new Dark Lord himself murdered three of our people and put two more in the hospital."

"Which by all accounts wasn't exactly without provocation on our men part." Hans grudgingly admitted.

"Because that makes this mess so much better." Zara growled.

"What do you want us to do, Alpha?"

"Gear up. We're going to sight see in Romania and have words with either Veil or his Master, possibly both. We'll see what we'll do when we meet them. Fucking Dark Lords..."


	43. Chapter 13 Parts 3&4

**Disclaimer: I don't own either of the Star Wars or Harry Potter franchises. They belong to their respective copyright owners. This story is not written with commercial purpose in mind. I make no money from it. It is not for sale or rent.**

* * *

 **Chapter 13: Dark Lord Rising**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **January 1986**

 **Tubor's farm**

 **Romania**

Another night, more uninvited guests. This was growing old – I needed more minions to handle such jobs like protecting my assets, an awareness that made the situation that much more frustrating because I did spent the last few days searching for the werewolves who were supposed to look for me in Sofia – no luck. They apparently had made themselves scarce once rumours about my Dark Lord alter ego began circling through the magical world.

The Tubors again cowered in their homes, hoping that the attention my takeover of their business wouldn't prove fatal for them, which left me facing whoever came to wreck the place alone with Vance. Needless to say, my patience was beginning to run out. Did I need to burn the Bulgarian Ministry of Magic or something for people to get a clue and stop trying to fuck with me and mine? Perhaps I shouldn't have left all those Aurors get away simply awed and humiliated…

"Twenty plus hostiles. Cautious, however they aren't trying to hide." Vance whispered the obvious. He was nearby, practically invisible under all the cloaking spells he knew.

"Then they're either arrogant bastards or not necessary here to fight." I concluded.

"Well, it might be people coming to swear their allegiance to you, sire. There are all kinds of Dark Creatures who will drop everything and race this way once they hear about a new Dark Lord rising."

"Perhaps, or they're merely a very obvious distraction. You're in reserve."

I closed my eyes and concentrated on the approaching group. They weren't coming as a mob, instead they were divided in smaller group moving at a reasonably safe distance of each other so no one could take them all out with a single strike. Three to six people in a group – squad and fire team equivalent. Not too bad a spacing though far from far enough to be safe-ish against half-competent indirect fire. That said, they should be all right against the traps and tricks wizards and witches might usually deploy.

Well, these folks got my attention. They radiated a curious mix of emotions too – there was anger, apprehension, no small amount of fear among a few of them, even hope, which was outright strange or it would be if it wasn't for Vance's suggestion. They might in fact be coming to test the waters and see if they could join Baras. Heh.

For the time being I ceased observing their approach and concentrated on the surrounding area. If there were more people creeping our way, they had a way to hide from my Force perception so the obvious people were it, we were in really deep shit or well, the large group was a diversion anyway and their friends were ready to Portkey or Apparate once we were distracted.

If this was a trap, it was time to spring it. I grabbed as much power from the Force as I needed and shaped it into an appropriate projection before sending a part of my awareness within it. Baras' image came alive fifty meters away, plastered and amused smile on its pale lips and walked towards the forest without a care in the world…

* * *

 **=TSA=**

Zara halted when a figure materialized in the clearing between the forest the Night Wolves crept through and their target. There was no sound accompanying the arrival, a fact signifying a mastery of Apparation of extremely well crafted Portkey. The stranger was large broad shouldered man wearing unusual black and grey robes. He wore no mask displaying pale, bald face. He was smiling too as he walked straight towards them.

"You know, my patience with uninvited guests is running out. Perhaps I should make an example out of you, what do you think, boys and girls?" An amused and confident voice thundered throughout the forest.

Zara made a sign with clenched fist and her squad leaders replicated it, halting the Night Wolves in their tracks. She signed to Hans to stay back and be ready for anything before rising up from her half-crouched position and walked out to meet the suspected Dark Lord.

"A wild one, aren't you?" He asked when he saw her exit the treeline.

"Lord Baras I presume?" Jelik refused to be baited.

"Who wants to know?"

"I'm Zara Jelik, leader of the Night Wolves mercenary company." The Alpha introduced herself. So far things were going on in a civil manner, which by itself was a surprise. The man wasn't acting like a typical Dark Lord with delusions of grandeur. It remained to be seen if that was a good thing or not.

"Ah, its you people. Some of your subordinates lack discipline, self awareness and sense of self-preservation." The suspected Dark Lord chided making Zara's hackles rise. "And my point is made." He shook his head in disappointment. "I am Darth Baras, The Dark Lord, little wolf."

He didn't sound like he was boasting, even when he put emphasis on 'The' in front of Dark Lord. He was certainly ambitious, Zara had to give him that much credit to the bastard. The man was either supremely self confident, a deluded fool or simply kinda crazy. As a Dark Lord, it might be all three as well. They weren't generally know for being sane and well adjusted individuals.

"Did you murder your men or was it your man, Veil?" Zara demanded.

"My Apprentice carries out my will. His actions are my actions, his words are my words. Your people lost their tempers, stood in the way of my agenda and paid the price. Are you here to follow them into oblivion, little wolf?"

The wolf within Zara bristled at this treatment. Without even thinking, she bared her teeth in threat as the cursed spirit came close to the surface.

"I am here to learn the truth, both about what happened in Sofia and about you, Lord Baras." It took a supreme effort of will not to lash at the man who just admitted murdering her pack members, however Zara was still very much in control, even though her curse did affect her. She wasn't ready to jump at a presumably very powerful wizard without thinking things through first.

"The truth? You already know the truth, Zara Jelik. You failed your people. You are their leader, their lack of discipline and control reflects on you. You didn't ensure that they could control themselves and would know better than to attack a more dangerous predator, out of misplaced pride no less!" Baras' voice thundered and his words cut deeper and more painfully than the keenest poisoned blade. "Yet you let them walk into a city without supervision."

Zara bristled at the accusation. She didn't let those fools go anywhere! They should have gone back after their job was done, not go carousing in pubs, damn them! They would be still alive then… They would be still alive if this man hadn't either killed them himself or had his apprentice do it.

"What about you, Lord Baras? Why did you have them killed? Was it to merely make a point?" Zara snapped back.

"Yes."

A simple answer. There was not even an attempt to justify it, nor to twist his actions into a more positive light.

"They volunteered to be an object lesson to those who might decide to stand in my way. Just as the vampires who came to attack this place did." And your pack might suffer the same tonight was left unsaid, however Zara heard it loud and clear.

"What is your purpose, Lord Baras? What do you aim to achieve?" Jelik pressed on. The man didn't look like much, he didn't even try to make himself appear dangerous – just a man in unfamiliar robes late at night. He should be an easy prey for the Night Wolves. They should be able to avenge their pack-mates, no matter if they were at fault or not. They were pack, damn it, her family!

Yet, Zara didn't give the order to attack but instead she talked. The man might have been a fool, a powerful fool, granted, if even half the rumours were true. However, the one thing she was sure was that he could somehow see her people even if all of them had some kind of spell cloaking them. She had made sure they were more than competent in sneaking around, especially in forests too.

Baras didn't appear concerned at all as if none of them were a threat to him. If anything, unless this was an excellent performance, he was simply amused.

"What do I want, little wolf?" Baras chuckled. "Don't you mean, 'What can I do for you and yours?'. Isn't that what you really want to ask about?"

Well, he wasn't wrong. Instead of answering, Zara simply stared at the man daring him to answer.

"What am I to do with you, little wolf?"

Was he intentionally trying to get under her skin or was he simply another ass-hole?

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **January 1986**

 **Tubor's farm**

 **Romania**

Pressure. That was the best way to describe what happened next or at least how it began. Between one heartbeat and the next, Zara found herself crushed into the dirt, suffocating because her chest wasn't strong enough to move under such an immense weight.

"Let me make something crystal clear, little wolf." Baras spoke in a mild tone, as if they had met at the grocery store and simply made small, meaningless talk while waiting for the cashier. "You came into my territory, demanded my attention." The Dark Lord chided. "You still live because I allow it, and you will die if I demand it."

The pressure persisted until Zara was on the cusp of blacking out. She couldn't think clearly, nor could she move even a finger. Only then it lifted a fraction, just enough for the werewolf to take a small gulp of air, before the weight fell again. Zara's lungs burned, her vision began to black out and for a second time, the Dark Lord allowed her to take a mouthful of air.

"The only meaningful question you should concern yourself with, little wolf, is why should I allow any of you to leave this place alive." Baras' tone didn't change. If anything he sounded simply disinterested, as if Zara and the Night Wolves were below his notice.

The mere fact that none of her people attacked, meant that they were disabled at best, suffocating just as she was if not dead at worst. When her oxygen deprived brain made that connection, Zara became truly afraid, not for herself but for her pack. They were her family, they followed her, and now, she led them to their deaths.

The pressure lifted for a third time, Zara coughed and spluttered, filling her lungs with as much sweet air as she could. Stars danced in front of her eyes and she felt light-headed, with everything else momentarily forgotten.

The respite didn't last. The Dark Lord crushed her yet again, however this time it wasn't into the ground. No, Zara found herself suspended in the air in front of him, with her family strung in a semi circle around her.

"I'm waiting, little wolf." A note of impatience entered Baras' voice.

Zara opened her mouth or at least tried to, struggling to speak, and to find the right words that would see her pack survive the night. Fool! She was such a fool to end up in this position, her curse raged, the wolf spirit within her howling at being confined in such a way, at how helpless it was. And worst of all, at being dismissed as a threat.

"Well?" Baras gave Zara an expectant look.

The pressure abated, and deep down, she knew this would be the last time. Zara was going to either persuade the Dark Lord to spare them, or the monster would simply dispatch and discard them like yesterday's trash.

"We can serve you, My Lord!" Zara pleaded, any and all trace of defiance dying in her desperation. "We'll do anything for you, My Lord! We will be anything you need, just please, I beg of you, spare my people!"

"Anything, you say?" Baras' lips twitched in amusement, which bled into his voice. "I might just hold you to this pledge, little wolf."

"Anything, I swear upon my life and magic! We are yours, My Lord! Do what you will with me, I am to blame, just spare my pack!" Zara begged.

Pressure build all around Zara. The shadows of the forest came alive, and began to dance around the suspended werewolves, and they were hungry for their flesh.

"Anything..." Baras repeated, and his voice shifted.

He no longer spoke in a light, pleasant tone. The mask fell away, black veins bulged upon his face, and his eyes blazed with cold, golden light. This was the visage of the monster Zara unwittingly came to beard in his own lair. He was an ocean of darkness, larger than life and more dangerous than anything she had ever seen. The whole world fell away, leaving Zara and the Night Wolves trapped into a deep well made of living darkness. Even her cursed wolf fell back, whining and falling to his back, offering its throat in desperate surrender.

"You're not worth my time, little wolf." With those words, Zara knew utter despair. The shadows jumped to tear her apart, forming jagged, hungry shapes. She felt them touch her skin, yet they froze in the last possible moment before tasting her lifeblood.

"I can find a use for them, My Master." A new, much younger sounding voice echoed into the void.

"Are you sure, Apprentice? Just look at them!" Baras exclaimed in disbelief.

"I didn't say that they were worth a lot. As they are right now? Nothing more than blunt instruments." The new voice continued, and how those words stung!

Yet, Zara couldn't refute them – here they were, the Night Wolves, one of the best mercenary companies in the Magical world, brought to the edge of death with contemptuous ease.

"I can work with this. They will either shine, or perish for wasting my time."

"On your head it be then, Apprentice. Just make sure you do not waste _my time_ , because of them." Baras warned in a tone that sent stabs of pure terror through Zara's very soul. There was something in the way the Dark Lord spoke that held a terrible promise of unspeakable pain, and worse. "Congratulations, little wolf." Baras' tone shifted back into a pleasant and cultured baritone. "You're my Apprentice's now. Try not to disappoint me again, little wolf."

Baras' overwhelming presence vanished, the shadows surrounding them broke and retreated back within the forest and the Night Wolves found themselves crashing on the frozen ground chilled to the bone, and covered with hoarfrost. Only then Zara sensed a much smaller, less intensive presence. A young man in expensive black duelling robes stood tall and proud in front of them. His dark eyes watched them carefully, as if trying to judge their worth.

"For your sake, I hope you will be worth my time. I am Dimitri Veil, of the Noble House of Veil, Zara Jelik. You will swear yourselves as my vassals, and you will exceed my admittedly high expectations." The young man wasn't asking, nor did he demand. He simply stated facts.

He didn't need to explain the alternatives, Zara still sensed the ghosts of those ice cold, sharp teeth pressing into tender flesh, she could still feel the ravenous hunger of the living shadows.

"Whatever you require, my liege." Zara bowed her head and wept, both for her lost freedom and in relief, because her family would live to see the dawn – not because of her, but in spite of her actions.

"I am not your liege, yet, Zara Jelik. You and your people will be bound, by oath, by blood, and by magic." Veil walked towards the kneeling werewolves, who were all shivering and gasping for air. With every step, power gathered around him, and even if it was a mere silver of Baras' sheer presence, Zara doubted that she and her pack could stand against this man as they were now.

It would be pointless too, even if they managed to do something about it, for all they knew, Baras was still around, watching them from the shadows. The very thought sent a stab of terror through Zara's heart and the spark of defiance died stillborn within her chest.

As Veil came closer, he raised his arms, and items materialized within his grasp. His right hand held the carved bone hilt of a ritual dagger with a wickedly sharp blade, and his left, a silver goblet. When he came to stand in front of Zara, he let go of the cup, which simply floated in between them, right in front of her eyes. He cut the palm of his left hand with a single sure motion and bled into the cup until it was half full. The cut sealed closed in front of her eyes, displaying even more wandless magic, or some obscure ritual that offered an unreal level of regeneration.

Blood magic, then. Veil wasn't jesting, they would be bound by oath, blood and magic, literally. So be it, the alternative didn't bear thinking about.

He offered Zara the blade, hilt first, holding it with two fingers. There wasn't even a trace of blood left on the blade she noticed.

Still on her knees, Zara took the offered blade and the goblet dutifully lowered so when she cut her own palm, she could easily bleed herself within it.

"One of my Master's vassals, Ignatius Vance will bind us." Veil stated and an older wizard shimmered into existence behind the young nobles' right shoulder.

Zara knew that man, by reputation. As far as anyone knew, he was the first wizard to publicly swear his allegiance to Lord Baras. After tonight, she couldn't help but envy that man's foresight.

Vance walked until he stood between Zara and Veil, wand in hand, ready to cast. Well, there was nothing to it. It was time to take the plunge.

"Zara Jelik," Vance intoned in a voice heavy with stirring ancient magic… "Leader of the Night Wolves, wilt though, upon this day, pledge thy fealty..."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

A few hours later, when they were alone, Vance couldn't help it and pointed an accusing finger at his liege, fear and awe plain to hear in his voice. "Merlin's rotten bones, what the hell was that?!"

"A taste of power, my friend. Raw, overwhelming, and unlimited, power." As he spoke, Veil turned to face Ignatius and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. "You know better than this, Ignatius. When I say that I am _The_ Dark Lord, I do not jest, nor do I speak in vain."

" _Merlin..."_ Vance hissed. "Then why are we skulking in the dark?"

"I am not so arrogant as to believe myself invincible. It is as simple as that."


	44. Chapter 14 Part 1&Interlude

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **=MK=**

 **I** **nterlude: Bad E** **n** **d 1** **– World in Conflict**

 **=MK=**

* * *

Force Visions usually came as jagged, broken pieces of an obscure puzzle, not even necessary from the same one. Usually. Occasionally, the Force offered more or less clear picture of _a_ future. One night, not so long after Veil met his future wife and adopted daughter to be, Veil found himself dozing on a bed, holding a distraught vampire, who cried silent, bloody tears as her young, now undead child, rested fitfully curled into her side, after she lost control of her bloodlust with nearly disastrous results. He felt an unsurprising amount of kinship with the two females – once upon a time, long ago, he had been used as well, forged to be something else, forced to dance on the tune of madmen. At least was meant to be a weapon, was trained and crafted as such, if crudely for the first decade of his service to the Sith Empire.

The hybrid he held into a one armed hug didn't have such luck. She was meant to be an experiment, a proof of concept and a sex toy, forced to commit unspeakable act alongside and to her own daughter. Her grief was like an excellent, well aged Alderaani wine, and her anger, which bubbled below the surface of her pale skin and raced through her vein to mix with the perpetual thirst for blood of her vampire side, it was simply a delectable bouquet for those able to experience its scent… and the hunger for deliciously wicked things, that came from her Veela side… She was like an irresistible beacon shinning brightly into the night.

The vision came suddenly and without warning. It immediately became obvious that it was far from the usual tibids the Force usually deigned to feed its Adepts. It was almost crystal clear with chilly fog fighting to obscure the odd detail. Veil wasn't really surprised by the implication, the Force was at war with itself, again. He could feel that this attempt of manipulation didn't come from the Dark Side this time, what he saw however, well he really wasn't surprised that she was back to her old tricks.

She was a treacherous bitch not to be trusted but used, his power.

It all began with betrayal, just a few moments of warning, and a flash of nuclear fire. All Veil could do was threw as much power as he could into a desperate barrier between himself and the tactical weapon, that just went off nearby. He acted on instinct borne from decades of experience. Even as people flash burned or even blew from inside and vaporized if close enough to the intense flash of hard radiation and thermal pulse following it on its heels, he drew the scattering remains of their life-force, used the death of everyone caught into the blast, to protect himself and clung to life even as his shields blazed with reflected energy, his skin charred and he received a deadly doze of radiation. A small harm desperately clutched his arm, his daughter screamed in agony, only partially protected by his defences. She howled as skin and flesh ran down her side like molten wax, she burned and all the kindness the Dark Lord could offer her was quicker death, an end of the agony.

His wife, she was fortunate enough to die without knowing what hit her. The last thing his eyes saw before blinding light and radiation seared them blind, was her contour standing against the forefront of the nuclear blast until it was a mere shadow, blown away by the shock-wave that levelled most of the French town.

The shock-wave hit him as well, it stripped his hastily brought up and now tattered shield away, forcefully tore away his charred clothes and the baked flesh they clung to. He was more a fried skeleton than man then, sustained by indescribable rage and the Dark Side, who offered her full might at that moment. He no longer cared, a wordless cry of all consuming fury and loss rend the air, echoing on the heels of the nuclear blast.

Veil knew, he should have died then, slowly and agonizingly. He would have if he was a normal man, even most Force Adepts would have found it hard to impossibly to recover without immediate, modern medical assistance.

He hadn't been normal for ages by that point. He was the Dark

Lord of the Sith, and he could not possibly die before his vengeance was complete. Veil unleashed the Dark Side upon the ravaged town, tens of thousands dying people had a mere moment to scream in terror before he tore their essence away, consumed it and used the resulting energy for quick and dirty battlefield healing. Cooked meat fell away, oozing wounds ceased their seeping as rough, disfigured red and raw flesh grew to replace them.

Within moments after the blast, powerful charms locked down the whole area. Assassins came on the magics' heels. When ICW Battle Mages and multiple special forces units clad in enchanted MOPP gear flooded the blast area, determined to ensure it was not all for nothing, they met fury hotter than the heart of the nuclear explosion. Nearly two hundred well trained veteran simply fell on their knees before collapsing, flesh and even bone drained by everything that sustained them and turned into so much ash. Only their leader was unfortunate to last a bit longer. An inhuman, oppressive and all consuming rage crashed upon her mind, shattered its defences and tore everything it desired, leaving her as a drooling wreck, which promptly collapsed as well, when Veil drained her essence away to continue healing his radiation ravaged body.

He didn't know what had pushed the ICW to open up to their NATO counterparts, how they persuaded the US government that Veil was the most clear and present danger to their status as a super power. Perhaps liberal amount of mind-fuckery was involved, perhaps even the truth, he had been playing both sides against each other ever since governments began meddling into his affairs. It was bad enough they obstructed him when he did his best to uplift this whole rotten world. Now, they dared strike against him against his family? They were going to burn for it, if they were lucky.

Veil Apparated to the nearest intact French town, unleashed its wrath upon it, consuming everyone – men, women, children, their pets, everything from the bacteria up. When he was done, and the settlement was a dead settlement, a howling ragged hole in the Force, he made his way to Moscow and his acquaintances there.

They weren't eager to begin WWIII for his sake, no matter that at least a few of them felt a pale shadow of his rage and did sympathise. They weren't ready yet. He was about to murder them and take charge, using the Dark Side, twisted Battle Meditation and his magic to take over, when a single thought pierced through his brain – doing so would jeopardize his vengeance.

The Dark Lord stayed his hand, if barely. He smiled, and his smile was terrible to behold. Legillimency, when combined with the corrupting influence of the Dark Side were something horrible beyond comprehension…

As far as the world at large knew, Dimitri Veil died that summer day, succumbing to his wounds.

On August the fifth, six years later, a resurgent Soviet Union under his firm control unleashed its forces, and terrible weapons crafted in secret – fusions of magic, Dark Side Alchemy and good old fashioned engineering. In the dusk before dawn, theatre shields came online covering critical infrastructural targets, large cities, logistics hubs and military bases.

By noon, NATO's forces in Western Germany were broken shells of their former selves unable to prove more than a speed-bump to advancing Soviet armour. The few still living commanders screamed for nuclear retaliation, unaware that they were left hopelessly out of the loop. At dawn, when the guns spoke all across the border and tactical WMDs of all stripes rained upon Austria and Germany, the USSR unleashed a large part of its strategic arsenal into a first strike aimed at military targets.

Within the grip of his vision, Veil saw, _experienced_ military bases boil away under nuclear fire, nearby towns and cities turn into infernos. Fleet formations desperately fought to brave a gauntlet of nuclear torpedoes and cruise missiles. NATO, the United States in particular, along with the UK retaliated in kind, the former aiming at military targets as well in one last, desperate gambit to keep the whole world going up in flames, while the British aimed to erase Moscow and some other vital sites out of existence.

Short lived stars expended their fury against theatre shields, which as often as not, held. The Soviet Union was hurt, badly at that, its military machine bled men and material, the Red Navy fought with fanatical abadon, throwing itself against CBGs with suicidal determination. Most of it died in the attempt, buying time for shield equipped ships to slip close enough to salvo their nuclear tipped missiles at the carriers. It worked, less often than not, yet many of the enemy ravaged formations then had to content with nuke happy submarines as well. For the first bloody days of the war, neither navy proved to be a factor as far as the fighting in Europe was concerned.

The French came next, throwing all their might to stop the onslaught at the Rhine and buy time for shattered formations to regroup and dug in, hoping that American reinforcements might make it, that they would matter and the world won't end in the following days.

More nuclear missiles crossed the skies, army formations on the both sides died in nuclear fire, yet the red tide wouldn't, couldn't be denied, not when the Dark Lord of the Sith led them, providing a safe corridor from saturation nuclear strikes…

In two weeks, the Red Army reached the English Channel and the Atlantic Coast. Millions were dead, millions more were about to die, yet the war was far from over. In fact, it was just beginning…

As fast as it came, the vivid vision broke, leaving Dimitri to hold the vampire at his side as desperately as she clung to him.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Early 1986**

 **R** **ila** **Mountain**

 **Bulgaria**

The preferred site for resolving disputes the old fashioned way never ceased to impress those with connection to the old magic. Just Portkeying to the edge of the ancient religious site was enough to sent Gorski's blood singing with the magic saturating the place. Upon arrival, old enchantments activated, magic washed over anyone who dared approach, and if it deemed them worthy, reality itself trembled and shifted. A vertical slab of granite flowed away like water to reveal a small canyon dug into the side of the mountain. Stone circles of various shapes surrounded seven basalt altars meant for offerings to the gods – a custom that most families had forgotten or denied centuries ago.

Nowadays, this sacred place was merely a neutral meeting ground and an arena for duels. The very thought of how far his people had fallen, how much they had wilfully forgotten, it simply disgusted Gorski. What was worse, he had to hide his true allegiance, because even in the days of old, most Wizards and Witches disapproved at making the proper sacrifices to their patrons, especially the real Perun. Short-sighed fools, all of them.

Gorski gave a sharp nod to his second, and marched into the holy ground. A dozen Ministry representatives were already milling around, making sure that the arena once meant for ritual combat, was properly enchanted so stray spell-fire wouldn't harm the spectators. He caught a glimpse of Varshenska's party at the far end of the clearing, thankfully far away from Perun's own altar. Ilia narrowed his eyes when he saw an unexpected figure among those fools – the were he sicked upon Veil. He narrowed his eyes at the wretched woman. She should have heeded his words, now he would have to make an example of her and her mutts, so no one else would dare defy his will again.

Gorski's eyes roamed all over Varshenska's party until he found the man he was looking for – her champion for the duel, Veil himself. The brat was young, just out of school, something that should have meant he was no real threat by default. High magic required not only power but years, decades of study and experience, and that was something so young should lack. Should being the operative word there. There were too many rumours, too much sleight of hand and disinformation. How many of Veil's claimed achievements were his own doing, and how much those of his Master used to make the Apprentice appear more dangerous than he really was?

Well, there was only one way to find out. "If you want something done right, more often than not, you have to do it yourself." Gorski muttered. He put a close approximation to a genuine smile on his face as he approached the Ministry's party. Kniajev wasn't here yet – he would likely arrive soon, along with most of the other spectators. Ilia had no illusions – many had come here to either see him fall or to re-affirm their allegiances when their forlorn hope died. Only a few of Varshenska's closest allies would remain in her camp when he vanquished their champion, which was inevitable.

Gorski had Perun's blessing. Liquid fire raced through his veins, lighting danced through his nerves, giving him more speed and power than an ordinary Wizard was meant to possess. With his patron's backing, he would have been ready to face almost everyone. With Perun's blessing, on this ancient sacred ground? He was invincible.

* * *

 **=MK=**

"Ladies, our mutual problem just arrived and he doesn't seem particularly happy, I wonder why..." Veil's lips twitched in amusement, but otherwise, he remained outwardly composed.

"You sound all too calm, Mr Veil." Silvia looked carefully at her accomplice.

"I am merely confident in my abilities." Dimitri answered calmly. There was no hint of bravado, neither arrogance Silvia could notice in his tone. He simply seemed confident, the way he carried himself – it was like he knew he had faced worse before, which might very well be the truth.

While Gorski was a mighty Wizard in his own right, Varshenska knew he wasn't near enough the level of a Dark Lord, and that was who trained Veil, that was who he had been sparring with for years. It had to be for him to be this powerful at such a young age. She didn't really want to know what rituals the young man had undergone to boost himself.

It was just that, Silvia didn't know if it would be enough. She knew that Veil had a fighting chance, perhaps more than that, otherwise she wouldn't have agreed to this scheme in the first place, Dark Lord or not. Still, victory was far from certain and if her Champion lost, he only hope would be for his Master to make an appearance, and if that happened, she would have no choice but to swear herself into that man's service. She knew very well what happened if you denied a Dark Lord, especially one you were indebted to. Silvia only hoped that she had made her deal with the lesser evil.

A crescendo of cracks came from the entrance of the sacred ground, heralding the arrival of the remaining spectators, led by Minister Kniajev himself. That overgrown toad appeared all too chipper for Silvia's comfort. She hoped that by the time this was all over, that infernal smile would be wiped out of his face, perhaps along with the face and what passed for his brain as well.

It better or she was thoroughly fucked in a way she was most definitely not going to enjoy. Repeatedly at that.

Fucking Dark Lords and slimy Wizards…

"Lets get this thing going." Silvia said. She steeled herself, took a moment to make sure her Occlumency shields were firmly in place, along with a haughty mask of noble superiority, and led her party towards the Ministry group.

"Lady Varshenska!" Kniajev exclaimed with a false cheer. "Good to see you, my dear. I feel compelled to ask, will you reconsider? We're all civilized people here, there is no need for such a barbaric display..."

Silvia cut him down with a murderous glare. "Most certainly not, Minister!" She sneered. "This has been a long time coming. I will not yield. Gorski and his ilk had done harm to my family, its allies and those under our aegis. We find no other recourse but to seek satisfaction by the Old Ways."

In other words, your Ministry was either incompetent or corrupt enough that there was no legal recourse left.

Kniajev flushed red, grit his teeth, yet managed to keep his composure from shattering any further. "I see, My Lady. Then lets the battlefield be the court where your grievances are addressed upon this day." He bit off a bastardised version of the old ritual words.

"The battlefield shall be the court of my Champion. Here, where the eyes of the gods are upon us, let them judge the righteousness of our cause." The ritual words felt odd, strange in her mouth when Silvia spoke them. They weren't really meant for any modern language, however no one had spoken the ancient Slavic dialect in centuries, so they all had to make do.

"So be it." Kniajev shook his head in exasperation. "Foolish girl..." He added in a hiss. "Let the Champions step forward."

Gorski walked into the clearing, which would serve as the arena tall and proud, clad in expensive and heavily enchanted duelling robes. He looked the perfect image of the mighty pureblood patriarch – powerful, experienced, sure in his might.

The pretender on the other hand, while he too wore duelling robes, they were of a plain cut, and while practical as well, it was obvious they lacked the same craftsmanship and protections woven within their fabric. Here, in the evening twilight, Veil looked terribly young and pale, a boy really, who was out of his depth. Kniajev shook his head, this was all going to be such a pointless waste. Why couldn't Varshenska simply know her place and keep her head down?! Was that too much to ask?!

The Minister sighed and continued with the old ritual. Once these unpleasantries were over, he really should see if there was a way to prevent such nonsense from happening again in the future. It was simply too bad that there were some rituals an ancient magics that you simply couldn't legislate against.


	45. Chapter 14 Parts 2&3

AN: This part was betaed by KaneTW on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **4**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Early 1986**

 **R** **ila** **Mountain**

 **Bulgaria**

ICW Investigator Loren was among the last spectators to arrive. She Apparated to the ancient site accompanied only by her two bodyguards, cursing herself for being careless in her old age. Really, it shouldn't have come to a surprise that the locals would fail to invite an ICW representative to something like this, which they considered an internal affair. Of course, Helga knew of the duel, she could not miss the rumours flying across the Bulgarian Ministry, not to mention the Owl storm that descended upon it as a consequence. Still, the Bulgarians proved surprisingly tight lipped about the time and location, especially the later. The Investigator had to burn through a lot of favours, both personal and professional, clear off some debts she would have preferred very much to remain in her favour, but in the end she did get the necessary directions, just in time too.

One of the first thing Loren noticed was the heavy magic draped all over the place, it felt ancient, oppressive and unwelcoming. An effect pushed against her Occlumency barriers, trying to sent her away, this wasn't a place she belonged, she had to get away…

Helga shook her head and reinforced her mental defences, only then she was able to get a good look of the area, and more importantly, the people gathered there. Considering the spectacle about to unfold, there were too few witnesses, though the location was likely to blame.

The ICW contingent reached the arena, if you could call it that, just in time to feel all sorts of Magics come alive. The moss covered earth below their feet shuddered, the air in front of them distorted as a transparent shield rose to surround the duellists. A single, clear note rang into the air and Minister Kniajev stepped back, passing effortlessly through the defences. His passage served as the last component of the ritual he orchestrated and the barrier shimmered, crystallising the air itself into a solid wall separating the combatants and those who wished to witness the spectacle about to unfold.

Helga could imagine that the two distinct camps of spectators had very different expectations of this travesty, which was about to unfold. Really, allowing a Dark Lord's Apprentice to lawfully assassinate people… Of course, Gorski's supporters wouldn't see it that way, however, they hadn't seen Veil's Lord and Master. Nor did they experience his very presence – that man was power given form, and someone like that would not choose an Apprentice who wasn't at least a cut above the regular Wizards and Witches.

Loren came expecting to witness a slaughter, a statement and to observe the fallout. She wasn't quite disappointed.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

Practical wandless magic was a rare thing. It required immense power, talent and dedication – you needed to spent countless hours bashing your head against the wall, trying to master even the simplest of spells, before you could graduate to something actually useful, especially once you became known as someone possessing said skill. For Veil to be able to do what witnesses claimed he could? That by itself would have placed him above the faceless masses of utterly average and useless Wizards and Witches.

For a Dark Lord to claim that boy as his Apprentice?

That ensured Gorski would not underestimate him and prepare accordingly. After all, if you didn't cheat, you haven't tried. Honour was for gullible fools, and a useful tool to fool the masses, which in the end was the same thing.

Magic sang around him, his Patron's blessing burned through his veins, he was ready, with muscles coiled like snakes about to strike, yet it was still not enough. The beyond ancient magics protecting this holy place came alive, sealed them into the arena, and as soon as magic itself announced the start of the duel, Veil struck, faster than Gorski could react. Invisible hands gripped his head and wrenched so hard, that they tore strips of skin away from his skull. A moment of sharp pain, then his head was turned all the way backwards, starring at the shocked faces of his supporters.

Just like that, Gorski lost, or he should have. He knew that technically he was already a dead man walking – only Perun's blessing in his veins allowed him to remain conscious and aware. He should have been already dead or the next best thing – generally, having your neck snapped like a twig had that effect on people.

' _Perun, give me strength!'_ Gorski prayed. He could feel his Patron's eyes upon him, examining, weighting and judging. A hungry anticipation – that was all that he could perceive coming from Perun. _'Your Priest needs you, please heed my call!'_ Gorski was ready to offer whatever he had to in order to survive this day and win! He wouldn't, couldn't die just like that!

Perun stared within his very soul for one endless moment, and in the next, a terrible realization struck Gorski… His Patron took his offer, literally. Magic roared through his veins, burning everything it touched, twisting, changing and improving as it saw fit. Indomitable, inhuman will slammed into Gorski's mind, cracking his Occlumency shields and leaking through, practically unopposed.

Ilia Gorski laughed as liquid fire replaced his blood. He wrenched his head around until it popped back into its proper place, merely feeling how the edges of cracked bone grated against each other and tore through tender flesh – the wounds were already healing anyway. Besides, it wasn't like something like that could be relevant as he was now!

"Well, this might be interesting after all." Veil had the gall to smirk at them! Gorski snapped his wand up, faster than a man should have been able to, and silently shot a lance of fire at the infuriating mortal. To his brief astonishment, Veil moved as fast as he did, in fact he began acting even as Gorski began his attack!

The British wizard sidestepped the fire spear, which harmlessly passed by to splash against they barrier made of crystallized air. He responded by conjuring globs of acid, which he banished in Ilia's way, the forward momentum turning them into a corrosive rain. Gorski ignored the attack, letting it fall uselessly against his enchanted robes and paying no mind to what little acid splashed over exposed skin – it wasn't like it could really harm him any more!

Ilia struck with a fire whip, which came from the tip of his wand and slashed at the cheeky mortal. He had to end this, fast, so he could go back home and repay his god. There was so much to do and so little time…

Veil rolled under the fire, his wand came up conjuring multiple silver spikes, which he banished at Gorski. Ilia sneered and vanished those which would have struck him, paying no attention to the many others, which flew off target. He jabbed his wand forward and unleashed a stream of intense fire at the offending Wizard. The last he saw from Veil was the man kneeling in the grass and raising a hand in a forlorn attempt to protect himself, then multiple spikes blind-sided him. Gorski staggered, only the heavily enchanted dragon-hide robe preventing him from being skewered like a piece of roast.

"That's quite enough!" Veil's voice thundered and on its heels came large chunks of burning earth.

Gorski had a moment of realization – the damn mortal had used transfiguration to protect himself with a dirt dome, before blowing it his way, the utter bastard! He was unable to banish everything away and a few large chunks hit him in the right side, spinning him around and throwing him off his feet. Those blows would have shattered all bones in the right arm and shoulder of a mortal, even in Ilia's case, they were more than enough to crack them in multiple places. Worse, he lost hold of his wand as well.

Well, so much for keeping things low key. He had Perun's blessing, he had his assurance he would win today! Gorski called the firestorm raging within his veins out, got up on one knee, spread his hands, and unleashed it in a semi-circle of raging, ravenous fire. His eyes glowed bright red, ignited from within and burned until there was nothing left in his eye-sockets but dancing flames – a clear sign of his Patron's blessing, obvious for all to see!

Gorski was one with the fires, he was as eager as they were to taste the Wizard's flesh! Yet, even as they flooded and incinerated everything in the other half of the clearing, rising as far as the ceiling of the crystal dome, there was no human flesh to consume!

A battering ram came through the fire, making it painfully obvious. Gorski pushed the flames against it, only for them to fail to take purchase – there was nothing there to burn! He had a moment of realization, the jumped away with agility and speed that would make a rattlesnake jealous.

It didn't help! Gorski figured out too late that this was merely a feint and he jumped right into another battering ram, this one moving much faster… The blunt impact sent him flying, drew the air out of his lungs and cracked the few ribs it didn't outright shatter, sending jagged pieces of serrated bone deep into his flesh. Ilia slammed into the ground, hard, and rolled away from the impact leaking blood and fire.

The firestorm broke, leaving behind patches of charred ground and a rain of magical fire, which burned for as long as the magic pumped within it could sustain it, which wasn't long in this case. Veil walked out of the inferno mostly intact. His robes smoked, sooth covered him from head to toe, yet he moved under his own power and still had his wand. Even from the distance separating them, Ilia's new magical sight could see the younger man's eyes – they blazed with power as well, a sick, twisted yellow. Black veins bulged around them, as if he was dying by a deadly poison or a vicious sickness, which would be the next best thing to a prolonged fiery death, Gorski guessed.

The Priest of Perun coughed out a glob of blood, which ignited and burned out as soon as it touched the ground and tried to get up. He still had his magic, his Patron was still here as well – he could feel Perun's presence both within him and around them, upon this holy place. Ilia was going to roast that British bastard and then…

"Such a waste..." Gorski heard Veil say, Perun sent him a warning, yet even then, he simply wasn't fast enough. Ilia managed to throw up a shield of fire and began rolling away, with each movement sending fiery agony through his chest.

It was to no avail – a torrent of purple lighting tore its way through the flames and found him swiftly. There was so much energy in the attack that it picked him up and suspended him in the air, even as it did its best to fry him. Perun's blessing turned out to be a curse in an equal measure. Gorski couldn't burn any more than he already did due to his Patron's magic within his body, yet it did nothing to protect him from the other effects of the attack. Electricity raced up and down his nerves, lighting him in agony and robbing him from any semblance of control. All he could do was scream and endure…

* * *

 **=TSA=**

"Monsters..." That much Loren could say without a shadow of a doubt. She didn't know what rituals those two had undergone, what deals, and more importantly, with what, they had done, especially Gorski, and she wasn't too eager to find out.

By all means, that man should have been dead already, at least three times over! Yet, there he was, still alive, still able to scream. Well, in a hindsight, being still alive wasn't doing him any favours… Seeing no hints that the current spectacle would change any time soon, Helena allowed herself to look away from the arena and observe the spectators for a few brief moments.

First, she saw Minister Kniajev, who was busy blubbering to the DMLE Director, probably begging for reassurances that whoever won wouldn't be coming for him next. Good luck with that, he was going to need it if Gorski actually died for good. If he could die after whatever the fool did to himself – these things always came with a price.

Next came Varshenska's group. The woman was pale and her public mask was cracked, revealing a pale and pinched face. So she didn't know exactly what kind of devil she had made a deal with. Perhaps there was an opportunity there, but it would be a slim one. If Veil won, as he looked like he just might, then Loren doubted there would be many of the locals who would dare oppose him openly.

Last, she looked at Gorski's allies. Many of those were shocked as well, enough of it that it showed plainly despite their Occlumency. A few of the older ones looked downright terrified as they stared wide-eyed at their benefactor and Helga wondered if it was because he was loosing or because they had some idea of what he had done to himself. Probably a bit of both, the Investigator concluded.

Gorski let out a hear-rending shriek that pierced the air and cracked the barriers protecting the spectators. One of the shrines in the clearing lit up with ghostly fires and a burning apparition flew from it to sink into the Wizard's suffering body.

Loren's instincts screamed a warning and she wasted no time. In a heartbeat her wand fell into her hand and she cast a protective shield, just a second before her bodyguards did the same. Some of the spectators followee suit, others Apparated away, which was probably the smart thing to do, with a few simply staring slack-jawed at the unfolding events. The later proved to be a fatal choice – Gorski's form exploded, releasing a sphere of liquid fire which splashed and drenched everything it touched.

Helga was sure that if she was alone, she wouldn't have been able to cast the necessary spells to keep herself from cooking fast enough, however acting together, the three ICW representatives managed to do it, though it was close. Some of the other spectators did the same, though at least twenty or so turned into living torches before the magical fire consumed them, leaving behind charred skeletons.

Back in the arena, Gorski landed heavily on his feet, stumbled and splashed fire in a circle all around him. He had a ghostly apparition interposed just above his skin, that of a humanoid figure made of living flames.

"What in Perun's name did you do, you fool!?" Varshenska's voice echoed over the unnaturally quiet clearing.

"His will, you little heretic!"

"Perun, really?" Veil's mocking voice interrupted them. "Wasn't he supposed to be a god of lighting, thunder, storms and the like?"

"He is! Whatever he has dealt with, isn't Perun, that much I can promise you!" Varshenska snapped.

"Blind fools, all of you!" Gorski sneered in a voice interwoven with something else, an unearthly echo following each word he uttered.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Early 1986**

 **R** **ila** **Mountain**

 **Bulgaria**

"You know, occasionally, my Master tells stories when he feels like reminiscing. He shows memories too..." Veil going out on a tangent gave pause to everyone listening, instead of sensibly running for their lives. Helga guesses that said something about her priorities she rather not think about now, perhaps ever. "His tales of fighting self-professed gods and immortals were something else."

The Dark Lord's Apprentice walked calmly over charred ground until he stood upon untouched patch of grass.

"He lied to you, mortal!" Gorski, or whatever possessed him, sneered. "I will gladly demonstrate the futility of fighting the likes of me!" The creature hissed and threw a fiery lance at Veil. The attack struck true, only for the Wizard's image to collapse upon itself, leaving only a patch of dissipating black smoke in its wake.

"I see, my Master. As you command. I'll consider this my graduation test, if that thing is up to the task, of course." Veil's voice came from nearby, making half the Aurors turn around and level their wands at him, while the others kept a close eye on Gorski. What was left of the Ministry group, led by the DMLE Director, was making their way towards the exit of the site.

Loren frowned at that. They should have either Apparated or Portkeyed away like some of the other spectators did. She made a sign to one of her bodyguards–the ICW needed to know what the hell was happening in here and there was no guarantee that any of them would be around to tell the tale if they remained for the conclusion of this battle.

"Charms." Michael grunted and sprinted towards the exit without even glancing back. All the way he kept casting any and all defensive spells he knew.

"Am I to assume that Bulgaria's finest won't be participating in today's entertainment?" Veil gave a curious look to the Aurors, before his form twisted and collapsed into black smoke, just like his illusion did earlier, only to appear behind Gorski. He waved a hand and unleashed a wave of wandless magic, which took Ilia's legs from under him, sending him flailing on the ground. "It's all right. I'll be having words with your superiors later anyway." Veil shouted back and launched a midnight black piercing curse straight at Gorski's head.

The possessed Wizard moved faster than a ravenous vampire smelling blood and evaded the spell, which left a deep, rotting gash in the ground. He retaliated with more liquid fire that set what was left of the arena on fire as well.

"Get me out of here!" Kniajev screeched.

Helga didn't know if it was the order, common sense or simply that the Minister's security detail didn't contain this country's finest as Veil implied. Either way, the Aurors kept crawling away, though to their credit no one broke and ran, they kept trying to extract their Minister and Director. Yet, not one of them sent a single spell at the possessed man.

The ICW Investigator felt torn. On one hand, she felt duty bound to stop whatever abomination Gorski made a deal with and now possessed his body, yet she couldn't say she would regret seeing Veil and that thing killing off each other. All the while, she was trying very hard not to think about the implications of what that man just said about his Master.

Not everyone ran. Varshenska and a few of her coterie slowly walked towards the combatants, most of them chanting in an unfamiliar language. Loren had the nagging feeling that said group had some idea of what they were dealing with so she headed their way, though she didn't pause casting protections for a second. That precaution proved a life-saver soon, when Gorski decided to blow out the fiery aura covering him, thus sending a second burning shock-wave all over the clearing.

At that point, the battle ramped up in intensity, making it painfully obvious that whatever else he was now, Gorski had went way past what a human should be able to do, much less endure – that much he already demonstrated. He moved in a blur, leaving behind a burning echo that immolated whatever it touched. Veil was no different – he was able to keep up, occasionally somehow Apparating for short distances by turning into shadow, or at least that was it looked. Fire, lighting, pure force – they tore the arena asunder, leaving it as a ravaging, lifeless ravine.

As they approached Varshenska and her group, the ICW agents could hear the chanting more clearly and while the language was still very much unknown, they could already perceive it had some effect. The surrounding air became heavy and charged, just like before a storm. The sky darkened, grey winter clouds turning into oppressive black. Helga was sure she could smell ozone in the air, then the first lightning struck from the sky, hitting one of the altars behind Varshenska. A second, then a third followed in quick succession and only then did the thunders arrive, drowning out every other sound. Heavy, freezing rain came on their heels, drenching everything and even taking a bite from the magical fires.

Gorski let out a decidedly inhuman screech of rage from where he stood. Raindrops hissed into vapour all around him, surrounding him with glowing mist.

Something responded to the chants, like a chorus singing just beyond Helga's hearing. The air became even heavier, as if it was physically pressing upon her in an attempt to bring her to her knees. The sky fully lit up with forked lighting clawing up and down the black clouds. Thunder shook the small valley, Varshenska's chanting rose up into a scream and a moment later, the skies themselves tore asunder and unleashed their wrath upon the valley. Lighting after lighting struck down, flash-boiling water and blowing everything away. Blinding flames erupted from Gorski, coming out from his eyes, ears and open, screaming mouth. They condensed into a small bursting dome of liquid fire, which sloshed every which way as it intercepted the constant lighting strikes. The possessed man howled like a damned soul and he collapsed on all four, his empty eye sockets fixed upon Varshenska and he charged her like a beast.

Without thinking, Helga snapped her wand up and sent a wide cutting curse at the approaching madman. A couple of Varshenska's people followed suit, while the rest continued chanting and whatever ritual was responsible for the cursed weather. Gorski halted suddenly, raising a hand in defensive gesture and a fire shield formed in front of him, swallowing the incoming magic. Beams of compressed fire lanced out, burning through the two casting Bulgarians within moments and barely missing Loren only because her bodyguard sensed something and shoved her away. She still felt searing pain all over her right side, especially her arm and screamed in agony. She saw her fellow agent burst into flame and burn from the inside out to a charred skeleton so fast he barely had enough time to scream. Lighting struck nearby, shaking her to the core, but at least the chilling rain did soothe her ruined arm.

Helga's eyes frantically searched for her wand, then another lightning struck close enough to sting and she flinched back. She saw Veil appear between Varshenska and the rampaging maniac. He hovered in the air, with shadows and electricity dancing around him. Lighting struck at him, only to be absorbed by an invisible dome that took barely perceptible shape for only a moment after being hit, then he unleashed that power and more through a small, localised and very potent lighting storm, which swallowed Gorski whole. All she could hear was the angry crackling of electricity and a deep, never-ending thunder that shook the whole area.


	46. Chapter 14 Parts 4&5

AN: This part was betaed by KaneTW on the space battles forums. Thank you very much!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **4**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Early 1986**

 **R** **ila** **Mountain**

 **Bulgaria**

Varshenska chanted until her throat was raw, then continued anyway. She pushed her magic and life into the ancient ritual, which was one of the closest guarded secrets of her family, heedless of the cost. She had a very good idea what Gorski had made a deal with, though until now she put little stock in those fables about the past she had in her archives. Now she was glad she had read them anyway.

They had to stop that abomination now, while it was still weak and trying to adjust to the body it possessed, otherwise the price of putting it down would be even steeper.

Freezing rain soaked her, lightning blinded her, thunder shook her, Varshenska kept chanting. She didn't falter when the abomination headed her way, she kept going when two of her friends moved to intercept it and burned for their attempt. Then Veil was there, appearing in a swirl of smoke and standing between Gorski and her group. He made no obvious gestures, nor did she hear him intone an incantation or even chant a ritual. Nevertheless, his body rose up in the air an energy crackled all around him, even as shadows came alive to swirl like shoals of fish around his body.

She could feel Perun's awareness and attention upon them, his and that of the other ancient, mostly forgotten and thus weakened gods her ancestors worshipped. She could also sense their outrage at something daring to impersonate one of them. Lightning struck again, this time at Veil, almost making Varshenska fumble the ritual from sheer shock and surprise, not to mention the proximity of the lighting strikes, yet she kept going, she didn't know if she could have stopped at that point even if she tried. Now she was as much an ingredient of the ritual as the one conducting it.

Varshenska saw white spots, she was sure her eardrums ruptured from the sheer ferocity of the thunder, which rolled over her like physical blows. What she could glimpse through the sheets of torrential rain, dancing shadow and lighting strikes, would have left her speechless and stunned under any other circumstances.

Veil floated in the air, untouched by the wrath of the ancient gods. Instead of frying or even exploding from the ferocity of Perun's fury made manifest, he merely absorbed the lighting strikes raining upon him, channelled the energy and unleashed it upon the abomination.

A condensed lighting storm halted Gorski in his tracks and soon the dome of liquid fire protecting him from above broke, spilling a lake of magical fire all over the brutalized arena. The flames sloshed like sea waves during a storm, before rearing back and surging at Varshenska like a tidal wave. For one endless moment, the lightning strikes ceased, even the rain seemingly froze in mid air. Varshenska could see Veil's back bowing backwards as he screamed in fury, then his whole body snapped forward and he slapped his hands together tearing hills worth of soil and rock from the ground and using them to crush and bury the incoming fire. The burning wave broke, splashing liquid fire all around, yet precious little came their way.

The next thing Varshenska saw was Veil falling to the ground, his feet sending mud splashes away. He raised his right arm and purple lighting raced up until it swirled into a sphere within his grasp. Perun spoke as well, a torrent of power falling from the sky and connecting with Veil's own lighting, surrounding his whole right arm. He took control of that tremendous power and shaped it into a rough approximation of a sword before dashing forward.

The lightning storm containing Gorski broke, letting the abomination fall to the ground. His highly enchanted robes were a seared mess, fused to baked and blackened skin, which oozed fire. His face was a skull mask with all features but a dead-man's grin burned away, even the skull itself appeared cracked and held together by the fire burning within that mockery of a man.

Even with its impossible speed, all it could do was raise its arms in an attempt to protect itself, for all the good it did. Veil slashed down diagonally, catching it between the left shoulder and the neck. Whatever it was made of was tough – the cracking blade stopped somewhere in its chest, then Veil pushed forward unleashing all the energy he was channelling within their foe.

The scream that followed – it could have never come from a mortal's throat. It broke Varshenska's concentration, clawed at her Occlumency barriers and dragged her to her knees. A blinding flash lit up the clearing and a tremendous shock-wave followed throwing her back to roll into the mud. She could taste blood on her tongue, all she could hear was a dull roaring and she could only see white spots. There were no more shocks coming from nearby lightning strikes, even the rain subdued, drying down to a mere drizzle. More importantly, there was no all-consuming fire searing her flesh.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

The moment Director Malinova passed through the outer edges of whatever spell fell upon the old ritual site, she ordered her people to drag the Minister to safety. The next thing she did was jab her wand into her badge for the second time that day, sending the highest level of alert her Department had. That particular spell would also broadcast her location so backup would know where to arrive. She already did that when the "duel" went to hell, yet no one answered. Now that they were out of immediate danger, standing just outside the entrance to the ritual side, the Director could sense the warning going out.

"Stephan, Apparate to the Ministry, I want everyone we have ready to deploy yesterday. Contact our Research Department and drag out of the bastards everything they know about this place and the ancient Slavic gods! We need to contain this!" If it was at all possible, she didn't say aloud.

Malinova looked back into the ritual site, which was now obscured by what looked like waterfalls of rain. The sky above it was pitch black, lit up by constant lighting strikes. Yet, despite enough rain falling upon the place to drown a city, it wasn't flooding, the magical fires summoned by that madman Gorski could still be seen shining through the rain. All that could be seen from the battle were flashes of lighting and what might have been the aftermath of fiery explosions.

The Director wasn't looking forward to dealing with whoever won this. To be frank, she hoped that everyone involved would simply kill off each other, otherwise…

Aurors Apparated nearby, alone or in small groups. All of them wore enchanted robes with those who could, clad in dragon-hide armour. Inevitably, they all began to curse when they saw what they would have to deal with.

When the storm broke as suddenly as it began, Malinova had thirty two people ready to deploy, with more gathering within the Ministry and soon to head this way. Every one of them could feel the magic permeating the ritual site take a deep breath and slowly begin to dissipate – or at least that was the best way they could put into words what they experienced.

"We're going in." Malinova decided. This was likely the best, perhaps singular chance they had to regain control of this insanity.

When the downpour calmed down, the cautiously advancing Aurors could see that the ritual site was radically changed. The place bore the signs of a massive magical fire, with everything either charred, or covered in soot – even the sticky mud caused by the intense rain drenching burned down and shattered ground. They could see broken and charred bodies, often pieces of them, sticking out of the mud, some of them were friends and acquaintances too, now left as unrecognizable husks.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on where you stood, not everyone had perished. Malinova saw the ICW investigator rise from a large pool of water, her pristine robes a ruin, her right arm charred to the bone. The woman looked around with dazed eyes and before anyone could react, she Portkeyed away.

Next came Varshenska's group. The few survivors looked shocked, covered in caked blood and a thick layer of mud, their eyes staring at the ruining clearing in a daze. Varshenska herself looked worse for wear , blood dripped down her nose and from her ears, yet she was very much alive.

There was no trace of Gorski, which wasn't necessarily a good thing.

"You're late." A tired, yet confident voice echoed through the hushed clearing. Everyone's eyes snapped in the direction it came from.

Veil was right there, blood dripping from the corner of one eye and a busted lip, a large bruise forming on the right side of his face. His right arm hung uselessly, wisps of smoke rising from it, otherwise he seemed intact.

Malinova simply stared at the man. Despite all that happened, he was in the clear, the rules surrounding this kind of duel made that much certain, at least in theory. After something like this? That man was too dangerous to be left to his own devices, yet what could she do? What should she do? His mere presence ensured that Gorski was gone and with him, Kniajev's greatest supporter. With Varshenska alive, it took no genius to conclude that soon there would be changes in the Ministry, perhaps radical ones. Kniajev's days in office were numbered, and his successor was going to be an ally, one who was in debt to a Dark Lord and his Apprentice. An Apprentice who just proved himself extremely capable and dangerous in his own right.

As the DMLE's director, Malinova was sworn to uphold the law, safeguard the Ministry and protect her country's citizens. On days like this, when those three duties conflicted, she often wondered which one to uphold, because things were seldom clear cut, neither simple.

Should she strike down Veil while he was weakened from his fight? Doing so would certainly be illegal, yet perhaps one of the few sensible options she had – take him out while he wasn't yet as dangerous as his Master… yet Baras was a thing, that man wouldn't take lightly to an attack upon his Apprentice. On the other hand, wasting this chance to deal with Veil, it simply grated, even if doing so would mean going against what being an Auror meant. Yet, letting him do as he wished, could mean handing control of the Ministry and the country to a Dark Lord without casting a single spell!

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part** **5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Early 1986**

 **R** **ila** **Mountain**

 **Bulgaria**

Silvia felt magic wash over her, removing some of the caked blood and mud covering her. She felt numb, exhausted to the bone. Veil, who knelt above her prone form looked almost as bad as she felt – the left side of his face was swollen, his left eye shut, perhaps even gone if the blood leaking from the side of his closed eyelid was anything to go by.

"Did we win?" Varshenska managed to croak. They'd better, considering what little she could recall clearly.

"We're alive, Gorski is all around, in many little chunks." The Dark Lord's Apprentice smirked.

"Good." Silvia sighed and relaxed, some of the tension gripping her form going away at that news.

"When you're a bit better, we're going to have a talk concerning certain old gods, my Lady. However, business first." Veil pocketed his wand and grabbed her shoulder with his right hand so he could roughly pull her up.

Silvia groaned in pain as her whole body protested every little movement, making its displeasure firmly known by sending sharp stabs of pain through her muscles, bones, and joints. She found her legs refusing to properly support her and had to lean heavily on the Wizard helping her.

"Wolf-girl, you alive over there?" Veil rumbled, addressing the Werewolf he arrived with.

A subdued whine came from somewhere nearby and it took Varshenska some time to find out the source – a hand clawed its way out of a large mud mound and began to flail around, while its owner did her best to dig herself out. Veil sighed, shifted Silvia so she no longer clung to his right arm, and made a gripping motion with his hand. The mound shifted and a mud covered figure floated out, spluttering and flailing, thus throwing dirt in all directions. The Wizard proceeded to unceremoniously dump the Werewolf back into the mud, letting her splutter and flail.

"Anyone else alive around here?" He asked aloud.

Only then did Varshenska noticed that they weren't alone. She flushed in embarrassment and anger at displaying such weakness for even more people to see and looked around.

There were a lot of Aurors around, led by their Director. Most of them were busy casting all kinds of detection spells, though a large contingent centred around Malinova stood at a respectable distance from Veil and watched him warily. Silvia could see why – now that the whole site was clearly visible, it was painfully obvious how much power everyone threw around just a few minutes ago. That Veil was the only one left standing and mostly intact… A chill ran down Varshenska's spine. Now she knew precisely who and what she made a deal with… and this was merely the Apprentice. She didn't dare think how much more powerful and dangerous the Master would be.

Well, at least it wasn't all bad news – with their backing, there was little she couldn't achieve, as long as she didn't cross them.

"Director Malinova, it's good to see you're still in one piece." Silvia put on her best mask, doing her best to erase any trace of exhaustion and pain from her face. "The Minister?"

"Alive and safe." The Director answered tersely.

"Splendid. Once we've all had a chance to clean up, I believe that it would be for the best we meet to discuss today's events and the inevitable fallout." Varshenska didn't need to look at the Wizard holding her upright. At this point, his very presence was more than enough.

Malinova's eyes narrowed. The woman had no illusions what the topic of that talk would be – to discuss the changing of the guard… and where the Director and her DMLE would stand. Silvia knew she was gambling – neither she, nor Veil were in good shape, on the other hand, Baras no matter where he was, was fresh and likely more powerful than any of them had ever imagined he could be. The Aurors could likely take them before they could retreat to recover, yet doing so would unleash the wrath of the Dark Lord upon the Bulgarian Ministry and that was not something any of them wanted.

Especially the Aurors who would be doing the fighting and more importantly, the dying.

For one long moment it appeared that Malinova might let her emotions win, or perhaps the logical argument that this was the best possible time to neutralize Veil, no matter if it was legal or not. Fortunately, the Director's shoulders slumped and she put away her wand. It took all Varshenska had left not to collapse in relief at that.

"You look like you could use a trip to the hospital. My people will escort you there and ensure there will be no misunderstandings."

At that moment multiple cracks came from the entrance to the holy ground, which prompted many of the Aurors to whirl around, wands on the ready.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I hope there won't be any misunderstandings." Ignatius Vance, Veil's partner in crime and the Dark Lord's other publicly known agent, announced. He led a group of fifteen men and women clad in duelling robes, who had wands, short swords and even muggle guns at the ready. "My Master requested that I retrieve his Apprentice."

Malinova closed her eyes for a few seconds and her shoulders shook with barely contained emotions. This had to be like rubbing salt into a wound for her.

"You can collect him." The Director bit off.

"I'm glad you made the right choice, Madame." A deep, highly amused voice echoed throughout the holy ground. The ghostly image of a large, broad-chested man appeared beside Malinova and gave her a mock bow. "There were enough unpleasantries for one day, don't you agree?" He smirked, turned around and ignored her so he could walk towards Silvia and Veil.

Varshenska focused on the projection or whatever else this was. This was her first opportunity to see the Dark Lord with her own eyes, even if it wasn't in the flesh and blood and she had no intention of wasting it.

"You did well, Apprentice." Baras concluded after giving one good look to the ravaged area. "It's not every day you run into something like this." He waved dismissively at the devastation. "And you, our little ally." The Dark Lord peered at Silvia with eyes that blazed with malevolent fire. "You've been dabbling in some very interesting magics, have you not? Such a naughty girl." He cracked a smile that didn't really reach his eyes. "I approve!" Baras suddenly clapped his hands, making everyone but Veil jump.

The Apprentice merely rolled his one working eye at the antics of his master.

"What's next, My Master? Facing a swarm of hungry dragons naked and covered with sauce? Perhaps attempting to befriend a pack of particularly vicious Nundu, because you want a new pet?" Veil asked lightly.

"If you insist. Get yourself presentable and harken to me. It's time to come into your own as a Lord yourself. Today you earned it, Apprentice." There was no mistaking the pride in Baras' words. And just like that, the apparition vanished, and with its departure, it suddenly became easier to breath, as if his mere presence had exerted pressure upon Silvia.

This… well, this was something else, and she needed time to reflect on it; on everything that happened today.

"Do you need an escort to your home?" Veil whispered in her ear, bringing her attention back firmly at the issues at hand.

As loath as Varshenska was to admit it, she did. Her legs felt barely strong enough to support her and she wasn't about to risk Apparating home and she had never been particularly good in making Portkeys.

"I'm sure Ignatius will be honoured to escort you home. I have to go meet my Master. As a rule, it is not a good idea to make him wait."

Yes, Silvia could see it. She certainly wouldn't risk doing so if she had any other option.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Infirmary**

 **ICW HQ**

 **Geneva**

A flash of soothing flame and enticing Phoenix song heralded Dumbledore's arrival. He took a moment to examine his surroundings and hurried to the bed where multiple healers were busy treating Investigator Loren. A pale faced operative hovered nearby, watching the proceedings with a pinched face.

"Things didn't go well, I take it?" Albus asked without a trace of his usual humour.

"Not at all, sir." The bodyguard explained what little he knew for sure.

"Most concerning. What did that fool make a deal with? Ancient spirit? Something worse? One of the entities who people in the past worshipped as gods? Such deals never ended well, yet people kept making similar mistakes, either for power, due to arrogance, or out of sheer desperation.

"Investigator Loren managed to prepare a memory for you before losing conscience, sir." The bodyguard added and offered a small crystal vial full with white, ethereal substance.

"Thank you lad. Will she be all right?" Albus asked. "Can we offer some assistance?"

"A few Phoenix tears won't go amiss if your companion feels like helping." One of the healers answered without looking away from his work – he was busy casting diagnosis charms upon Helga's prone figure. "At any rate, her right arm is a write off – too much damage, and it's all some very nasty dark magic. She's in shock too, has her eardrums ruptured..."

Dumbledore winced at that. While this was far from the first time he had seen such injuries, neither they were even close to the worst he had to lay his eyes upon, it was never easy to see good people, or people in general broken in such a way.

Fawkes trilled and flew away from Albus' shoulder to perch himself on the pillow next to Loren's head. He looked at her, chirped a few tones of a relaxing melody and a pair of sparkling tears fell from his eyes, sinking into her cheek. He ruffled his feathers, puffing them pleased at a job well done and flew back to Dumbledore.

"That should help. Thank you both." The senior healer said.

"I should be the one thanking you for taking good care of our Investigator. Do inform me if there are any complications or if you need anything further to aid her, I'll do what I can to provide it." Dumbledore told the healers. "And you, lad, when you're able, please send me a copy of your written report." Albus left with those parting words. He had a very important memory to watch.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Minister's office**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **Bulgaria**

The first thing Kniajev did once his security detail whisked him back to the Ministry was to run to his office, open his supplies of emergency alcohol and polish out a full glass with fire-whisky. That helped his hands stop trembling, though it did little for the fear gripping his heart. Ilia… what did he do?! What happened to him?! Was this the Dark Lord's doing or did his friend and benefactor do that to himself?!

What little he saw of the duel was simply impossible, unthinkable! Normal Wizards weren't supposed to be able to do things like that, much less survive their necks snapped, not to mention all that fire!

Kniajev shook in fright. Even thinking how easily Veil should have murdered Ilia! He simply snapped the man's neck with a gesture! How did you keep your safe from something like that?! And to think that the boy was simply an Apprentice! What about his Master, that Baras fellow?! Could he make a deal with him? But they were working with Varshenska and knowing that foolish woman, she wanted his job, or at least someone she could control sitting in his chair… Perhaps, yes… He grabbed the bottle and took a long pull from it, manners be damned! Things like that no longer mattered. He decided! It was time to cut off his loses, take his nest eggs and go for greener pastures, and perhaps warmer winters. Somewhere he wouldn't have to deal with Dark Lords and their crazy powerful Apprentices!

The only question he had left was if it would be best to go to the Bahamas or Hawaii, Kniajev had heard some good things about both places, especially if you had money to spend and he would have a lot of spare change...


	47. Inerludes: Faling shadows

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude:** **Falling shadows**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **ICW HQ**

 **Early 1986**

 **Geneva**

Insistent knocking took Albus out of his thoughts. He had been thinking and writing down ideas for a few hours now, after he watched Helga's memories. What he saw was concerning to say the least. The first thing he did after watching the memory for the first time was to sent Fawkes with letters to gather some of the old crowd at Hogwarts tomorrow morning, because Dumbledore doubted he would manage to get away earlier than that. They would have some preparations to make, not to mention people to investigate and potentially watch.

The knocking repeated, striking harder and faster this time.

"Enter!" Albus said aloud and put aside his quill.

To his immense displeasure, the familiar form of Duc Albertini strode in his office, though at least the man looked much less eager now than he did when they first learned about the new Dark Lord.

"Dumbledore, we need to talk." The old Italian Wizard made his way to the visitor chairs in front of the desk and sat down without waiting for invitation. "You've seen a memory of that mess in Bulgaria, I believe?" Jonas' eyes flickered to the Pensieve laying innocently on the right side of the desk.

"Duc Albertini." Albus greeted in a cool tone. "What do you want?" With that man, his arrival was never a mere social visit, which wasn't exactly a bad thing. Being considered one of his friends was generally damning, at least in Dumbledore's eyes.

"The Dark Lord Baras made his second appearance after your Investigator left." Jonas said.

That Albus didn't know. He narrowed his eyes at the Duc. He wasn't know for offering anything off the goodness of his heart… Even the charity he was known for, especially in the Muggle world, was little more than a legal tax evasion scheme.

"A Dark Lord you're no longer eager to be acquainted with?" Dumbledore peered at his guest over his glasses. "A tragic turn of events." He added in a dry voice.

"That man and his agents will have more or less complete control of the Bulgarian Ministry by the end of the week. My contacts assured me that Minister Kniajev is about to run, if he hasn't already. With Gorski and his allies dead or scattered, there is no one left who would dare oppose the changing of the guard."

"I'm aware of that. Our people would no longer be welcome in Bulgaria, especially if their agenda even hints at looking at Baras' or Veil's affairs." Albus admitted. That was less than ideal. For most practical intents and purposes, it put a stop to any officially sanctioned operations on the Balkans, the area those two were currently interested in.

"Baras and Veil implied that the duel was a graduation test, so the boy could come into his own." Albertini said. "I believe it might have been planned as one from the very start."

Albus frowned at that suggestion. "You think they knew what Gorski dabbled into and took advantage of it?" That would be most concerning – both being aware of something like that and not stopping it cold, and being either arrogant, or worse, secure in their power enough, to risk the duel going through anyway.

"That's the logical conclusion." The Duc scoffed, implying it was beyond obvious. "Those two are going to be a menace, I can feel it."

Dumbledore suppressed a snort at that. Not so long ago, Albertini was very happy at the prospect of a new powerful Dark Lord rising. Unfortunately, he wasn't likely to be wrong.

"You're here for a reason, Jonas. Spell it out."

"We have to contain the Dark Lord while we still can. Or do you believe we should let things slide down until we have another Grindelwald on our hands?"

Well, if it was another Voldemort, Albertini would have been thrilled and doing everything he could to oppose a firm action being taken… Again, he wasn't exactly wrong – Dark Lords were best dealt with when they were just beginning their raise to power. Doing so was by no means easy, it was simply cheaper that way.

Of course, making the ICW take action was going to be hard at the best of times. While for the time being Dubmledore's and Albertini's agendas did align, there were a lot of other people who would actually be thrilled at the prospect of a second Grindelwald, or at least a worthy successor – both across Europe as a whole, within various governments, and even the ICW itself.

The end of Grindelwald's war had a lot of common with the aftermath of Voldemort's fall – both were vanquished, one seemingly destroyed, the other imprisoned for decades now. Yet, there was no clear, complete victories. When the dust settled, their organizations were still powerful, still able to fight to the bitter end and thus wreak even more destruction. That was especially true when many of Gellert's followers were concerned – they simply couldn't surrender without certain assurances and concessions, to do so would have meant fate worse than death for too many of them.

In the end, while Albus had been all too glad to deal with the worst offenders among his old friend's army, he wasn't about to crush people who only fought under his banner because Grindelwald was the only one willing and able to give them the better lives and respect they deserved. When he stepped away from the battlefield with the war unresolved, well the ICW in general and everyone else fighting under their banner against Gellert's people had to make concessions.

"That would be for the best, yes." Albus finally allowed.

The last thing his country needed was another war, especially with all the strife going on because the last one ended unresolved. With Dimitri Veil being a British Wizard and the Dark Lord's Apprentice, it was more than likely that sooner or later his eyes would fall back on his home, and Magical Britain was in no state to deal with another Dark Lord so soon. At best, they had to stop Baras now. At the minimum, they had to contain him and buy time to recover and prepare to face him at a more even footing.

Ideally, they could convince the ICW Assembly to take action and neutralize the threat now, however Albus wasn't holding his breath on that one. Nevertheless, he was going to do his best to ensure such an outcome. Unfortunately, the one thing he could not risk was face against Baras himself, especially if he had to do it in a duel – he was no longer a young man, he could not risk the Elder Wand falling in the hands of another Dark Lord. That sentiment rang especially true now, when he had no idea of how powerful and knowledgeable Baras was. His performance against the Bulgarian Aurors was concerning, Veil's fight against that possessed madman even more so.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Minister's office**

 **French Ministry of Magic**

 **Paris**

It was early in the morning and Minister Jaques Levalier already enjoyed his first drink of the day – a glass of strong wine. The way things were going, his new job was going to make him an alcoholic if he endured at the post for long enough. The middle aged man took a sip, enjoying the wine's rich taste and sighed. He just suffered through a meeting with his Directors of Law Enforcement and Foreign Affairs, concerning the newest crisis, which raised its ugly head. The rumours about a new Dark Lord rising in Europe were apparently anything but.

And that latest insanity on the Balkans, because of course it had to happen there, Jaques rolled his eyes at that, was simply too much. Who in their right mind dealt with ancient spirits, or worse, entities which once upon a time claimed to be gods and were worshipped as such? Didn't people learn that doing so almost always ended up in tears?!

The Minister took another sip of his wine while waiting for his next visitor. What he was about to request from his friend, could put them both into danger, and worse, squarely within the Dark Lord's awareness. Still, they needed more information, not merely rumours and what could very well be a precisely orchestrated disinformation campaign conducted by the Dark Lord in question.

"Monseigneur Delacour for you, Minister!" Elisa's sing-song voice came from outside.

"Let him in." Levalier told his secretary – a really charming creature in all regards. She was damn useful in her post and very easy on the eyes too!

Alexander entered wearing impeccable black costume like always – Jaques never understood why his friend preferred that dull colour! "Alex!" The Minister got up to greet his visitor. "Good to see you! How's the family?" He asked after they shook hands.

"Fleur is a handful and Appoline is very pregnant and even more irate at my expense." Delacour answered with a proud smile.

"What did you do this time?"

"I got her pregnant, so obviously everything's my fault." Alexander chuckled. "Jaques, I'm sure you didn't just call me so we can catch up and speak about our families. I've been hearing things..."

"The Bulgarian situation." Saying that aloud, wiped out Levalier's friendly smile off his face. "It's confirmed, we've got a new Dark Lord on our hands. That's why I called you." Levalier took a fortifying drink from his wine. "We need more information about that man. What we do know for sure is that his Apprentice, one Dimitri Veil has aided the Veelas in Bulgaria on multiple occasions now. In fact, as far as we know, the whole mess there began when he offered his services to one of their sanctuaries…" Jaques trailed off.

Alexander looked torn for a moment. "You want me to make inquiries through my wife and her relatives. I'll have to go speak with my mother in law..." He didn't look too torn at that, "and her husband." Now he did grimace.

"He has been behaving himself ever since the war ended." Levalier pointed out.

"No one has been able to catch him in the act you mean? We both know that men like these, they don't really retire for good."

"That's arguable, Alex, and something we aren't likely to agree on. My request still stands."

"You want me to sound off the bastard as well, don't you? To see if he won't decide to get back up to his old tricks?"

"He and his friends are going to be interested in the events unfolding in Bulgaria. The new Dark Lord sounds like someone cut from the same cloth as Grindelwald." Levalier grimaced. Someone like that could set the whole continent aflame if they weren't careful. Their very existence as a rallying point could ensure it, no matter what their agenda was.

"I will speak with my wife, give a call to my mother in law as well. I can promise nothing."

"What about the General?"

"And you were just telling me he was retired..." Alexander grumbled.

"He is and I hope he will remain retired."

"Keep telling yourself that, my friend. Whatever lets you sleep easier at night."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: On butterfly wings**

 **=TSA=**

 **Early 1986**

 **House Davis residence**

 **UK**

The old manor house brought back bittersweet memories. Charles Davis didn't really believe he would see the place again, perhaps only after his father died, the old bastard, though he didn't hold his breath. He could almost hear the laughter of his sister ringing through the halls and the stern, exasperated voice of their late mother chastising them.

On the face of it, the place hadn't really changed during his long years of banishment, and even if it did, it had been subtle enough that he didn't really notice on the way to his father's study.

At least Tracey was happy, her head snapped every which way looking at everything with innocent wide-eyed curiosity. Amelia on the other hand simply walked beside him, with an expression of polite indifference firmly fixed upon her face. She was looking forward this meeting even less than he was – it was no secret that she was the reason he was banished in the first place. Marrying for love, turning his back on the family obligations because of it, at the height of Voldemort's rise no less… Well, if he was to be fair to himself, Charles would have likely fled to keep Amelia safe and damn the family legacy, no matter if he was banished or not. Still, his father's words and rage still cut deeply even eight years later.

It wasn't all bad. For example, Mindy, the House Elf who raised him alongside his mother was happy as a pie, bouncing around and crying tears of joy because of his return, no matter how temporarily it would be.

Soon they reached the study and the Elf ushered them in, before bowing with a grin on her teary face and popped away.

"Charles." He heard his father's voice coming from the depths of the dark room. It was tired and weak, a far cry from the titanic rage Charles remembered from their last meeting.

There were only a few candles flickering over the desk. It was covered with parchment and a few thick, leather-bound tomes. Reginald sat behind it, hunched, wearing a hooded robe that left only his chin exposed. He looked much smaller and frailer than Charles remembered.

"It's good to see you're all right, my boy." Those words took Charles aback, especially their tone – it sounded genuine of all things!

"Father." He uttered, while struggling with sheer shock.

"I didn't invite the three of you here to berate any of you, you know." A hint of mischief emerged in the old Wizard's tone. "Thought it was a close call." The old Wizard's visage grew serious. "How much do you know about recent events in Europe?"

The sudden change of topic, combined with his father's uncharacteristic behaviour kept Charles off balance.

"Rumours mostly." He admitted.

There weren't many places across the pond where the papers or even the rumour mill kept a close eye on Europe, or any place that wasn't in the Americas. After the wars, MACUSA in general was determined to keep to itself, deal with its internal issues, and there were a lot of those, and generally ignore the world at large. That wasn't merely a governmental policy, it was how the locals acted as well – after all many had gone there to cut ties with their pasts, homes and families and often preferred to ignore that the world beyond their immediate vicinity existed.

At least that was Charles' experience in the magical quarters of Virginia.

"Well, its a good news, bad news situation." His father began to explain, after giving him a brief disapproving look that made him feel like a young boy again. "There's a new Dark Lord on the rise," Well, that was his father at his best – dropping news without a regard how they might hit anyone listening, "who by all accounts is nothing like Voldemort."

At that declaration, Charles was very glad that he left his family into the company of the House Elves so they could show them around and decided to meet his father alone, at least at first.

"I'm beginning to think that coming here was a mistake after all." Charles frowned.

"I didn't bring you to walk you into a trap." His father made a dismissive gesture. "As I said, this one is different. He's walking in Grindelwald's steps from what anyone could gather." The old Wizard chuckled. "You haven't forgotten your history lessons, gave you, boy?"

Well, now Charles could clearly remember why he hadn't been particularly sorry to leave his home behind, despite the price in magic he had to pay for turning his back on the family. His father was kind of an arsehole on the best of days.

"Wizarding supremacy, didn't give a damn what blood ran in anyone's veins, was ready to give all kinds of magical creatures more or less equal rights in the new world he wanted to build…" Charles listed out the major points… "Nor did he have any issue with half-bloods and muggleborn..." Which, if true, would be a major point considering that he did marry a muggleborn witch in a breach of what the House wanted and arguably needed.

"You see." The old bastard smiled proudly. "I'll freely admit that if it wasn't for this kind of development, I wouldn't have looked for you anytime soon if at all. And if it was a different kind of Dark Lord..." His father shrugged.

Yes, they both knew that if it came to choosing between what was best for his son and granddaughter and the House, the bastard would choose the later every fucking time. In that regard, the old man was a very good Head of House, though as a father he left a lot to be desired.

"What is that you want?"

"Your brother is now discredited as a viable heir. He would steer our House in a direction it might not survive."

Vincent was a good little blood purist, though at least Charles couldn't really blame his family about that – Vince managed it all himself after falling in with Lucius' crowd at Hogwarts. It was rumoured that he had become a good little Death Eater, though there was no proof of that.

"The new Dark Lord isn't found of blood purists?"

"Lord Baras and his Apprentice, one Dimitri Veil, the last scion of the Noble House of Veil, became publicly known after helping Veelas against elements high up in the former Bulgarian government. They engineered a change of leadership in that Ministry. The policies being implemented under their influence are telling – all kinds of Magical creatures are receiving full legal rights, citizenship, the works. The same goes for muggleborn and half-bloods – what was true on paper is now becoming true in fact as well."

"I have trouble believing they're doing this of the goodness of their hearts." Charles scoffed. In his experience, when something was too good to be true, it usually was. Like this invitation by his father.

"Of course not!" The old man chuckled. "The common belief is that they're using this as a rally point and advertising campaign to draw more werewolves and other dark creatures under their banner by giving them what most of them had always wanted. And this brings us to you, my son."

Charles gave his father a deadpan look.

"The times are changing. I don't see that pureblood nonsense being particularly successful, especially once the Dark Lord Apprentice turns his eyes to our shores."

Oh, yes. That Veil chap was British, so it would be no surprise if he would want a power base back home as well. Of course, when the pureblood agenda was on the rise backed up by a Dark Lord, his father sang a very different song…

"So suddenly I'm no longer the black sheep of the family, and my choice if wife became a bonus instead of a noose tied around my neck." Charles concluded.

"I've always knew you were a smart lad, Charles. I'm ready to welcome you home, your wife and daughter as well. You're to take your rightful place as the heir and chart our house a prosperous course in the years and decades to come!"

Charles noted that his father didn't ask, nor suggest but said it as if it was a fact. Why he found himself surprised, he would never know. Of course the old bastard hadn't really changed. On the other hand, being welcomed back in the family, by its magic as well, having its resources at his disposal… those were enticing possibilities. With the House at his disposal, he could offer his wife and daughter a much better future than a mere survival in America.

He snorted at that thought. Running away sounded so easy, simple and sane back then – to get away from the madness engulfing Britain. Neither of them really paused to think about the details, like how would they find a home, work, if things would turn out for the better in the long run. When all was said and done, they were lucky – a combination of some disposable assets, being very good with a wand and well, luck at landing at one of the more open MACUSA states helped tremendously. Still, neither of them found themselves with the opportunities they would have had back home before the Dark Lord began winning his war. Irony of ironies, at the place they ended up, no one discriminated against his wife and daughter because they were a muggleborn and half-blood. Charles himself on the other hand? People often mistrusted and hated him because he was a scion of one of the old European families, and by association he tainted his family as well. It wasn't long before he figured out that the MACUSA wasn't free from discrimination, it just took different forms… or it was exactly the same as back home depending on the state.

There were stories about muggleborn, sometimes whole families, being lured at the wrong place and vanishing without a trace. The same was true for pureblood Wizards and Witches – there were locations they best not approach.

"Lets talk details, father." Charles stared down the old man, who simply smiled at him with approval.


	48. Chapter 15 Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **5**

 **=TSA=**

 **Interlude: An Order reborn**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **Early 1986**

 **Headmaster's Office**

 **Hogwarts**

A small group of people arrived in ones and twos at the entrance of the school grounds so Hagrid could lead them through protections set up just a step below war footing. Soon they all gathered in Albus' office to warm up themselves and picked up cups of hot tea courtesy to Hogwart's Elves. Flames burned merrily in the fireplace, helping various charms to keep the chill of a Scottish winter away.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily at seeing so many old friends gathered in one place, even if the reason left much to be desired.

"Albus, you didn't call us for tea and scones." Moody grunted. The old onerous bastard wasted no time in scanning a chair and a cup of tea anyway before drinking from it with a scowl.

"Unfortunately not." Dumbledore agreed with a tired sigh. "The rumours some of you might have heard are true, there is a new Dark Lord on the rise in Europe. What's worse, he has a powerful and capable apprentice already, who happens to be British as well."

Dumbledore scanned his guests and his heart clenched at their expressions. It was expected, yet that didn't make it any easier. They all had hoped that Tom would be the last Dark Lord any of them would face in their lives, and now this. There was resignation, fear and not a small amount of anger. Yet, there was determination too, which was frankly heartening after the price they all paid in the fight against Tom.

"It is confirmed then?" Alastor grumbled.

"I saw the memories with my own eyes." Dumbledore nodded. "Both of the Master and the Apprentice. They're powerful, dangerous..." Albus grimaced. "Sane." He was sure that it was in no small part due to his insanity that Tom took so long to bring Britain to its knees during the Blood War, that and the general fanaticism and short-sightedness of his Death Eaters. Using blood purity as a rallying cry earned him a lot of resources, the scions and even heads of many important families, yet number wise, they were a relative minority.

This Baras character, no matter his real beliefs, wasn't about to make the same mistake.

While his friends digested his words, Albus used his wand to remove a memory strand from his mind, place it into a vial and cast an obscure spell which projected it on the wall near the fireplace.

Everyone watched his recollection from the memories he experienced concerning the Dark Lord and his apprentice. His friends uttered a lot of quiet curses while watching and more of them obviously struggled with despair. It took Fawkes noticing, ruffing his feathers in irritation at the negative emotions and singing to put an end of it, something Albus was thankful for.

When the spell ended, the only sounds in the room came from the Phoenix who was still quietly singing and the merely burning flames in the fireplace.

"The Apprentice is one of ours, you saw?" Alastor was the first the recover and he growled his question with the typical bluntness he has been known for since his last disastrous encounter with Voldemort.

"Dimitri Veil, he graduated from Drumstrang the previous year." Dumbledore confirmed. "His father was a Hogwarts student, while at this time I'm not sure where his late mother was taught. She was a foreigner." Albus explained.

"Then we can assume that sooner or later he'll return home." Kingsley Shacklebolt said. The dark skinned man was one of the newest member of the Order who joined shortly before the end of the Blood War.

"My thoughts exactly." Albus confirmed gravely. "The Dark Lord might be content to build his power base on the continent and take it over for the foreseeable future – not something that is in anyone's best interest. The Apprentice however? Sooner or later we'll be facing trouble on our shores as well and we must be ready."

"What do you intent to do, Albus?" Alastor demanded.

"Well, first we're going to reform the Order. That's the second reason I called you here for, besides giving you a warning about what is about to descend upon our collective heads." Dumbledore explained. "First, we'll need to gather more information about the Dark Lord, his intentions, allies, resources. Second, we need to be on the lookout about any attempt of him to gain a foothold on our shores. Third, we need to look for anyone here in Britain who might be sympathetic to the Dark Lord's cause and offer shelter, succour and alliance."

"What about the Death Eaters?"

"We will watch them as well. Depending on the Dark Lord's agenda, they could be either a tailor made army for him or an obstacle he'll have to overcome."

"We aren't working with those bastards!" That was the most polite cry that came from Albus' guests.

"Naturally. If it comes to it, it would be merely a case of us watching two enemies tear at each other, while doing our best to contain the collateral damage and take them into custody once they've weakened each other. That however is a talk for another time..."

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 1**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

Before the weekend, all Harry got from his Master was a few pulsed reassurances that all was all right coming from their bond and another night of nightmares until he could finally get some proper sleep. By the time he was more or less coherent the whole day, the furor in school hadn't really diminished. Every new edition of the Prophet stirred up more and more rumours and speculations, which in turn kept people staring and pointing at him. So much for getting some peace and quiet at Hogwarts in order to study magic in peace… As the week proceeded, Harry became more and more frustrated. Only the mornings were relatively calm. Lunch and dinner basically guaranteed that dozens of people glanced his way either with fear, wonder or both.

At least the news from the muggle worlds received here were few and far between, otherwise Harry was sure that the next week would be even crazier – his Master would be testifying in front of the American Senate then. Even if many of his peers wouldn't care about that one way or another, there were those who would – half bloods and muggleborn like Granger.

Even the Slytherin common room wasn't much of a sanctuary lately, because many of the older students kept openly giving Potter evaluating looks, a few even offered small nods of respect! It was vexing, Harry had done absolutely nothing except keep his head down and try to study like a student was supposed to do! It was beginning to dawn upon him, both intellectually and emotionally, that his Master and cousins were right, no matter what he wanted, being just Harry wouldn't be an option.

He still wasn't completely sure how he felt about it. There was something enticing about all the attention, about people believing that he was valuable enough, that he mattered enough to take him into consideration. On the other hand, there was a part of him that loathed it all and wanted to just sink into the floor! Those were feelings that kept warring within him the past couple of days to his immense frustration.

Fortunately, it wasn't all bad, especially when the classes themselves were concerned, well most of the time. A few were a waste of time, even most Ravenclaws agreed. Others on the other hand, were cool and interesting. Like DADA, which would be the last class for the week. Harry looked up for it with both fear and excitement. When it finished, it would be the weekend and that meant much more free time for everyone to be overbearing busybodies!

The best thing Harry liked about the interesting classes was that once they got inside the classroom, everyone's attention was usually on the teacher, what they were teaching and doing any assignments instead of starring at him muttering some nonsense. Friday's DADA was no different. A quick roll-call to ensure everyone was present and the class began.

"Last time we discussed the nature of the Dark Arts. Today, we'll be talking about their relationship with the law, both in theory and in practice, not just here in Magical Britain but worldwide too, at least in general." Professor Quirrell smirked. "I hope you've done your homework and visited the library?"

Most students nodded, a lot of them eagerly, especially among Harry's Slytherins. The Gryffindors obviously weren't too happy with what they found out in the library.

"I can clearly see the big question on the faces of many of you. Why aren't the Dark Arts outlawed? Why aren't most if not all of them banned outright? Does anyone wish to give us their theory?"

Harry racked his brain for a plausible answer, however considering he was mostly asleep in the library, whatever he read about it, he simply couldn't recall.

"Miss Davis?" Quirrell asked.

"There was no good explanation I saw in the library, merely the fact that very few spells considered part of the Dark Arts are restricted or banned. It raises a lot of questions, however there were no good answers to be found in the library." Tracey said.

"I'm not surprised. Do you happen to have a theory, Miss Davies?"

Tracey shook her head in the negative.

"Anyone else? Do you wish to speculate?"

Silence interrupted only by the odd grumble coming from the Gryffindors was the only answer the Professor received.

"Well, then. I'll have to do my best to explain, won't I?" Quirrell chuckled. "As I understand it, this isn't something that is usually discussed this early in Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, however I do believe that before we begin with the practical portion of the class, we should have a stable grounding in theory, dismiss some pre-conceptions as well, and touch upon some real-would implications of the Dark Arts."

The Professor stood up, walked around his desk and then leaned back on it. "The answer is simple, students. Power." Quirrell raised a hand, twitched his wrist and his wand appeared, so he could twirl it in front of them. "This? We all have wands, we receive them when we are eleven. They're as much a tool as a symbol. I think that this explanation would be easier to grasp for our muggleborn and half-blood students. Their muggle peers don't have magic, they don't receive a wand after their eleventh birthday. What does that mean both for them, for us and our respective societies?"

Thanks to his emphatic senses, Harry could clearly perceive the mood in the room shifting. Practically everyone watched and listened with rapt attention, however the way they felt, that was radically different. There was a hunger for knowledge, for validation, he thought, among many of the Slytherins. The Gryffindors on the other hand, especially the muggleborns, felt confused, some outraged and even betrayed.

"I'm not going to began spouting some blood purist nonsense!" Quirrell apparently noticed the same thing, because his exclamation caught them all off guard. "I'm merely stating a few facts that are the core of many of the differences between magical and muggle societies. It's not that we have magic and they obviously don't! Magic doesn't necessary make us better people than the muggles, there have been monsters and villains both muggle and magical alike all throughout history!"

Well, that certainly made sense, Harry knew painfully well that some muggles were terrible people and the same could arguably be said about some wizards and witches as well, like everyone responsible for him ending up abandoned with his relatives! His peers, well they didn't necessary agree. Now it was the Gryffindors turn to feel vindicated and smug, while a lot of Slytherins experienced less than flattering emotions aimed at their teacher. If this class, and the future ones, contained this much excitement, Harry wasn't sure how well he could handle them. Perhaps he should contact his Master and non only ask again what really happened, but about tips on how to better handle his emphatic sense! Being constantly bombarded by people's emotions was bad enough, though bearable. Having those emotions shift so fast and to this extent, something like that was much harder to handle!

"A wand." Quirrell stressed. "A symbol that we have enough magic to put it to practical use, the primary tool we use to do it. We are all given one once we are eleven years old. It can be used for harmless fun," A swift run, a whispered word Harry couldn't hear and a stream of coloured sparks erupted from the wand's tip to swirl above everyone's heads. "I can use it to heal, to mend broken objects, to break thins as well. A wand is a very useful tool, one that defines us. It is also what the muggles call lethal weapons and for a good reason they wouldn't let children and young adults possess one before they are of age, here in Britain, not even afterwards in most cases. In the muggle world, only their Aurors and Hit Wizard equivalents have weapons. Thus, it is the muggle government that has a monopoly of power in the muggle world. Can you see where I'm going with this?"

Harry thought about his wand, about what his Master and cousins had been teaching him. "Power." He thought and only then he figured out he had said it aloud in the silent classroom.

"Precisely, Mr Potter, take two points for Slytherin. Power." Quirrell nodded. "Magic in general, the Dark Arts in particular, they're power. Those who have studied them, those who know them or at least have the necessary tomes in their personal libraries to become proficient in their use will never accept a widespread ban on the Dark Arts. It would directly take away from their power if they abide by it… and in the magical world, governments seldom have monopoly of power so it is hard to enforce laws and directives that the population in general doesn't wish to follow. It is one thing for the Aurors to go after an individual who has used the Dark Arts to hurt someone, that's simply natural. Its another thing all-together to go after people because they have knowledge that gives them power and are willing to practice it without hurting any one. Trying to take power away from people, that has never gone down well and that's the rub about the Dark Arts. Their primary application is in combat, trying to take them away, would lead to those practicing them to fight back as a matter of course, often to the end. Because, once those wizards and witches have been robbed from one of the best tools used in combat, what else could be taken from them now that they're weaker?"


	49. Chapter 15 Parts 2&3

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **5**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 2**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **September 1991**

 **unplottable location**

 **Southern France**

Drumbeat hammered nails in his ears shaking him awake. He cracked his crusted eyes open and gazed bleary around wondering what the hell was happening and why his arms hurt like son of a bitch… Jimmy Kovach closed his eyes, not believing what he saw for a moment and hoping that the weird hallucination would go away. What the hell did he drink last night anyway? What did he do last night for that matter?

Cheerful shouts of approval and an inhuman screech made him shudder and crack his eyes open again, so he could look wildly around. Nope, he was still seeing the same impossible picture… He was suspended from the ceiling by chains, which explained the pain in his arms, he wore only his boxers too, which in turn explained the cold, but as concerning as that was, what he saw in the large building put it all to shame.

There were hundreds of people milling around, talking, drinking and eating, though most of them were gathered around a parapet around an honest to God arena dug into the ground. Over there, some bare-chested maniac waved a sword of all things and faced off against the next best thing to a fucking dragon… and that wasn't the only impossible thing he was seeing. There were couches and armchairs that floated in the air so their occupants could have a better view of the bloodsport… and he wasn't the only sorry bastard who was practically naked and hung on chains from the ceiling.

The scaly, spiky dragon thing screeched in fury, its long neck moved back for a moment before it struck, its teeth filled maw snapping at the madman facing it. The man moved like a blur sidestepping the lunge, his right hand flashed and the long sinuous neck of the beast snapped back. The dragon roared in pain as a shower of blood sprayed from the side of its neck and the crowd cheered gleefully.

Seriously, what the fuck did he drink, smoke or sniffed last night?! He was a professional, damn it, he didn't do drugs! This… this had to be some kind of hallucination, right… Jimmy shook his head and looked around, trying and failing to make sense of the insanity surrounding him. When he focused on the gathered people, Kovach came to the realization that he was watching something out of a movie, like those about the Romans or something dedicated to their decadence like Caligula or something… There were people busy making out, if not outright fucking, others… was that blood, the fuckity fuck?! Jimmy stared at three scantily clad women, something he generally approved off, go down on a man tied with chains and were they biting him? What?! One of them rose from her… meal, revealing blood splattered jaw, very long, very sharp fangs and a pair of red glowing eyes. She said something and those nearby laughed, then she returned to eating that poor bastard.

Jimmy simply stared slack-jawed, while his mind refused to process what he was seeing. It took a particularly loud and pain-filled screech for Kovach to tear his gaze from the bloodbath below him and stare at the arena. Over there, the dragon-thing had retreated to one corner, its right paw hung uselessly under its bulk and bled profusely, its left wing was torn and to top it all, there was a sword stuck under its jaw. The maniac facing it appeared intact, somehow. He was grinning too, or so it seemed. The madman raised his left arm and a spear flew into his open hand from the shadows under the walls of the arena. He hefted it with practised ease and when the dragon screamed again he threw it right into its open maw. The wicked blade cut through flesh and scales before puncturing through the back of the beast, which went insane and began thrashing in agony. The madman repeated the impossible and this time a curved axe came flying into his hands. A moment later he ran at the dragon, jumped and slammed the blade into the side of its head before flowing away from the snapping jaws, which crushed the spear's shaft like toothpick, not to mention all the claws and spikes. Soon, the beast's movements grew sluggish and it collapsed into a twitching, moaning heap.

Jimmy watched in stunned disbelief how the man nonchalantly walked up to the dragon, tore his axe free and then proceeded to decapitate it with a few strong strikes while the crowd went wild… Then he did something else impossible, though by now Kovach found out that repeated shocks tended to dull the next one. The man vaulted out of the pit to land among the party-goers with penchant for cannibalism and bloodsports. He raised up his hands and the crowd quieted down, even the drumbeat became quieter.

"My friends, I'm glad that so many of you could make it tonight for this little gathering!" The bloody maniac proclaimed to gleeful applauses.

Wait a minute, Jimmy knew that voice! He squinted his eyes and focused on the man's face. Now that he wasn't in the pit and moving in a blur, he could recognize the bastard! That was Veil, the fucker whose corporation he was sent to infiltrate… and if this wasn't some kind of very weird and realistic hallucination might explain his current predicament.

Suddenly, Jimmy hoped he was indeed on all the drug and having the weirdest of trips…

"My Master and I, we fancy ourselves civilized, reasonable men..." The madman went on and Jimmy couldn't help it but snort despite his predicament.

Kovach glanced below where he dangled seeing people eating other people, reasonable and civilized, yeah, pull the other one!

"Yet, people keep getting in our way, doing their damned best to sabotage us. Infiltrators, spies, undercover Aurors, even corporate spies..." Veil sneered. "They never learn." He shook his head and pointed at the far end of the room. "Over there, we've got a couple of ICW agents."

Jimmy had to squint to see them clearly and blanched. There were indeed a man and a woman hanging from chains over there, however they had glowing brands all over their bodies too, the poor bastards…

"I see that you already drank dry that delicious Italian Auror, which leaves us with our muggle friends and today we've got who is who from their Intelligence agencies. First, our local celebrities from the DSGE," Veil nodded at a pale and struggling man and woman who were being lowered down towards groups of waiting people… who all had red glowing eyes and fangs… bloody hell… "Lets not forget our friends from across the Atlantic," another jab followed pointed behind Jimmy, who began to struggle in earnest and stopped paying attention to the lunatic.

Despite his best efforts, Kovach merely managed to get himself swinging from side to side, while no one paid him any attention. The damn chains refused to bulge in any way, it was as if they were stuck to his skin!

"… last and certainly least, the newest crop of corporate spies..." Those words made Jimmy pay attention, he was one such spy after all. "I hope you'll all enjoy the meals provided. But before we continue with tonight's entertainment, I want to introduce to you our two friends from Moscow, who aren't for eating." Veil grinned to chuckles and applause.

A stunning blond woman in a form hugging red dress that left little to the imagination walked out of the crowd and behind her two more women wearing similar dresses, just in black and blue, escorted a pale pair. Those two were a man and a woman wearing the most conservative outfits among the gathered madmen and monsters – a black and a bit outdated suit and a long cocktail dress respectively.

"Here they are, my love." The stunning woman spoke in a husky voice that promised all the wicked things someone could imagine and then some.

"Ekatherina, Timo, I'm glad to officially welcome you into the fold." Veil smiled pleasantly at the unsettled pair. I'm sure we can all look up to a long and mutually beneficial partnership."

He didn't say it, but the implied threat was there. Behave or you'll be on the menu as well.

A thin man with such a pale skin that he almost shone in the dark appeared from the crowd carrying a tray with two crystal vials filled with blue liquid that actually glowed. He stopped in front of the Russians and offered them the drinks with a fanged smile.

"A toast in your honour, my friends!" Veil declared as more servers came from the crowd to offer him and the blond woman who now hung at his side drinks.

Jimmy was pretty sure that the glass they gave her was full with blood or the next best thing and to his lack of surprise, the same was true for Veil.

Hundreds of red eyes focused on Veil and the bombshell beside him as they picked up their glasses, raised them in a toast before taking a drink, something that most of the crowd repeated. Only the Russians were reluctant to do so with whatever shit was offered to them at least until Veil looked at them and raised an eyebrow. He smiled too, and from his perch, Jimmy could see his blood-stained teeth. The same was true for the woman at his side, though in his case, those were outright sharp fangs.

The Russians looked at each other and picked up the offered crystal vials with trembling hands.

Could this get any worse, Jimmy wondered and immediately cursed himself for taunting fate. Below him, the Russian couple drank the vials in one go and Veil nodded at them.

"And now, the fun can continue!" The crazy bastard announced. "Who is going into the arena next?"

At least a hundred people, both men and women, screamed their intent and the crowd went wild. Among the noise and trying to process what he just saw, Jimmy didn't really notice he was being lowered down until he was nearly halfway to the waiting people, no vampires, who looked at him as if he was a lamb brought for the slaughter...

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 3**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **September 1991**

 **Hogwarts**

Days became weeks and soon, Harry lost himself in the routine of school-life. A lot of classes practically blurred together, especially the less interesting ones, while others often stood out, though not necessary for good reasons. He found it hard to put into words at the time, however if asked years later, it would be plain to see what seemed a bit off by the end of September.

Learning magic ceased to be, well magical. More often than not it became routine, not so different than muggle school. It was just that he exchanged the Dursleys and his cousin Dudley from before meeting his Master with all the staring, ill disguised hostility and sometimes outright fear coming from a lot of students. Honestly, there were days Harry wasn't sure which was worse. While school didn't become boring, which would have been a feat worthy of Merlin with the likes of Tracey and the Twins constantly up to something and even some Slytherins from all years beginning to slowly open up and be less stiff all the time, it was far cry from those first days after his sorting. His Master's antics around the world didn't exactly help matter – as often as not Veil appeared in the Prophet ensuring that everyone's interest in Harry's affairs wouldn't ever recede.

One thing was for certain, if it wasn't for his Master's and newfound relatives high expectations, Harry wasn't sure he would have been able to push himself up to be as diligent in studying as he currently was. Too many of the textbooks were dry and boring affairs, the less said about the books in the library the better – those varied between being able to effortlessly put you to sleep, search for a dictionary or bore you to tears and rumour had it that those containing more advanced material were even worse. On the other hand, there was said something about studying with people Harry was fast becoming to consider if not exactly friends, then the next best thing. That was certainly a novel experience, one he relished and was at least for now, worth it all the issues that came with attending Hogwarts.

On the other hand, when Tracey went in one of her "creative" moods and Daphne failed to reign her in, complications ensured. Like now, when the overly excited girl found it hard to keep herself contained to her library seat and as far as Harry was concerned, she was ready to explode in excitement.

"Did the Twins slip her something, again?" Potter asked in a long suffered tone.

While beneficial as far as his Master was concerned, Harry soon found out that people looking up to him, listening to his opinion and occasionally expecting him to solve their problems, was troublesome in the extreme. Like right now, everyone but Daphne was too busy pretending that reading Transfiguration books was too interesting to pay any attention to Tracey. Draco valiantly fought to maintain a good approximation of a solemn expression, Theo hid his face behind a book and Blaise, well he was actually busy acting as a life shield between Parkinson and Malfoy. That girl had been following Draco everywhere she could after their week in school and no one knew what to do with or about her.

Harry let out a long suffered sigh and exchanged a commiserating look with Daphne before putting down his book. "Fine, I'll bite. What has you so excited today, Tracey?"

"I know how to get them!" She exclaimed. "And you are all going to help me get even!"

"I'm with Davis." Nott rumbled and put down his book, revealing a green streak shaped like a lighting bolt going all the way though his hair. "Half of us are still suffering! Green has no place on my head!"

"I don't know. I thought Daph pulled the whole wood fae look very well." Tracey needled her friend. "At least that shade of green did suit her."

"Tracey, you know, love, we share a dorm. How do you feel awakening with green hair again, hm?" Daphne asked in a sweet voice that made everyone pause and give her an odd look. That tone sounded suspiciously like Aunt Andromeda when she was particularly displeased about something, Harry concluded and that was never a good sign.

"I'm sure Tracey didn't mean it like that and she's really sorry?" He attempted to diffuse the situation.

Greengrass huffed and gave everyone the stink-eye.

"That said, I'm certainly up to getting even." Harry added. "Professor Snape still thinks I had something to do with this..." He gestured helplessly at Theo who simply grimaced in disgust.

It wasn't a good morning in the Slytherin dorms when everyone awoke with their hair disfigured by a very large, very green and very visible patch shaped like a lighting bolt. Arguably those were the lucky ones too, because there were boys and girls like Theo and Daphne where the charm or potion hadn't worked as advertised. Instead of dispelling by next morning or forming the lighting shape, in their case it either colored every single hair on their bodies green or the spell-work became semi-permanent. In the later case if you wanted to get rid of it you needed to wait for natural growth to take care of the issue, cutting off the affected hair and waiting being optional. Apparently, until the professors knew exactly what had been done and what had gone wrong, there were no simple solutions like being plucked like a chicken and taking a hair growth potion.

The less said about the poor bastards who tried it, the better. They now looked like a pair of green walking rugs.

"I'm on board as well. It sound like fun." Blaise announced. He was one of the relatively lucky Slytherins – Zabini kept his hair so short that it was the next best thing to being shaved bald and apparently it was the way he liked it. Less maintenance that way, he claimed. Well, there was something to be said about that, especially compared to Draco who spent at least a hour each day tending his hair as if it was something precious.

"I'm in." Malfoy nodded eagerly after gently checking if his hair was still in one piece.

"Me too!" Parkinson squealed. What was she doing here again?

Harry sighed and exchanged another look with Daphne. Was this how she felt all the time dealing with Tracey? That girl must be a saint, he concluded. "Whatever, I'm in as well if for no other reason you won't let me hear the end of it otherwise, will I?"

"Good, good." Tracey cackled in a very disturbing manner. "Here is what we're going to do..."

Did his Master had to deal with such bothersome shenanigans all the time, Harry wondered.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **late September 1991**

 **Washington DC**

 **United States**

My wife was right, getting entangled with so much work and plots as I ended up with certainly wasn't the plan. At this rate, we would be busy untangling the whole bloody mess for years to come and so much for my plans for early retirement and enjoying the spoils of my works. The political entanglements alone ate a too much time, they were extremely frustrating and as a given made me extremely vindictive in response. The actions I did in retaliation might be of great benefit in the long run, however in the here and now, they were a major pain in my ass.

"You're brooding again." My wife looked at me with exasperation and took my hand in hers. Her cool touch helped soothe my temper.

"This is going to be tiring, best case scenario." I looked at Chloe and frowned at the flashing lights beyond the darkened window of the SUV we rode in. It was a stark reminder that we were targets of all kinds of maniacs, and while before getting married, that was merely a source of amusement, nowadays it was anything but, especially when we were in public.

"A lot of muggles in your position would have been excited to be called to speak in front of the American Senate and Congress." Chloe smirked behind the thin dark veil covering her face.

While unlike the movies and novels, a bit of sunlight wasn't going to put my wife on fire, nevertheless, the sun was very bad for her and able to strip off her skin with merely a few minutes of exposure.

"You know, you don't have to do this. The media circus alone..."

"Well, this is going to be the official confirmation to the media that we're in fact married and all the Paparazzi will come out of the woodwork." Chloe's smile widened enough to show the tip of her dainty little fangs. "I'm of course the dutiful wife and will be with you supporting you all the way."

"Because someone could confuse you for a good little stereotypical housewife." Now it was my turn to smirk.

"Don't even joke about that." My wife pouted. "I loathe the very idea and you know that very well." Chloe pocked me in the ribs with a finger. "Am I clear?" She used another poke to underline her position.

"Weren't you telling your cousin last week that there was nothing bad about someone being house-wife or house-broken husband if they wanted and could afford to?"

"Yep." Chloe nodded happily and poked me again. "If people want to be such, that's their prerogative." Yet another poke. "I certainly don't wanna."

"Very mature." I caught her finger during the next poke attempt, gently pulled her hand up and kissed it. "Now if you're done committing unprovoked violence upon your poor husband?"

"The only true thing in that statement was the husband part, dear. Now on a more serious note, you know why I'm really here. Someone has to keep you out of trouble and be on hand to ensure you won't go for another vengeance fueled hare-brained scheme."

"I must admit that on reflection, I did resemble that remark. Still, are you sure you're ready for the media circus? We both know that the vultures will be even worse than usual once we arrive."

"Then I'll continue eating paparazzi until they decide to leave us alone for good, and you'll continue to arrange very embarrassing and very fatal accidents for the nosy bastards who come too close." Chloe nodded happily. She gave me a critical look and straightened my tie. "Now, that's better. Remember, you've already gotten even, there's no need to torture the poor American politicians any more than they already are."

"I can make no promises on that front, however I will do my best."

"This is going to end in tears, isn't it?" Chloe grimaced.

"That's not my fault!"

"How can you say that with a straight face, I'll never know..."


	50. Chapter 15 Parts 4&5

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1** **5**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 4**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 **late September 1991**

 **Washington DC**

 **United States**

Crowds? Check. Packs of rabbit paparazzi trying to mask themselves among throngs of genuine journalists surrounding the US Congress building? Check. At least there was enough riot police in place to keep most people away, which was a plus. Nevertheless, I was getting unpleasant flashbacks to another hearing I had, in front of a very different Senate, in a galaxy far, far away.

I dearly hoped that the consequences of this one would be nothing like the last time.

"Well, its time to face the music." I sighed and schooled my expression into a blank, polite mask void of any and all emotions. Beside me, Chloe did the same, complete with a small polite smile.

Our convoy halted in front of the Capitol building and disgorged a small army of bodyguards just as at least twice their number of uniform cops surrounded the area. After all the confirmed assassination attempts upon me, at least a few of which happened on US soil, no one was taking any chances, especially now, that I was finally about to appear in front of a mixed House and Senate Commission to testify. The moment I got out of the SUV, dozens of cameras flashed with almost blinding intensity. I offered my hand to Chloe who too it and I helped it out of the car and with that, the paparazzi went wild. I was certain we would be neck deep in them in the foreseeable future. On the bright side, we would have some fun and stress relief in arranging accidents for the utter bastard.

Chloe gripped my hand tighter at the increased intensity of flashes, which despite her enchanted veil irritated her eyes something fierce. I could feel her primal anger rising only to be stashed away for later use.

"This way, Mr Veil. Everything's arranged." That came from Jonas Harrows, the leader of my solicitor team in the US. It his people who oversaw all the details surrounding today's circus. Jonas was a solidly build man in his mid fifties who came in highly recommended due to his extensive contacts in Washington.

"Lets get to it before our friends in the media grow even more restless." I stated blandly and headed up the stairs leading to the Capitol building's proper.

We passed by a large number of security personnel, aides and the odd Senator, along with Congressmen and women who while not part of the official proceeding were around for the show. Fortunately, there were no incidents and soon we reached the large room where today's circus would take place. The place was chock-full with long tables covered by red and blue covers, a decent number of uniformed police and at a least a hundred people gathered to watch the proceedings not counting the commission itself and the couple of dozen journalists who wasted no time in aiming cameras our way.

Amusingly enough, there were eight people kneeling in front of the table I would be testifying from, leaning on the one behind them and all of them pointed cameras of all sizes my way, flashing away as if there was no tomorrow. Behind them stood two rows of tables on raised podiums, putting the testifying location lower than them, something that made my hackles rise. Even the superficial appearance of mere politicians from some primitive backwater looking down on me simply grated. Granted, I felt the same when facing the Republic's Senate but that was another story all-together.

"Good luck, love." Chloe whispered an encouragement and fell back along with a handful of my bodyguards who were allowed to get this far and I proceeded ahead accompanied only by Jonas and his right hand man.

We had a couple of minutes to set up. We took our seats, my lawyers pulled out various folders from their briefcases, while the furor surrounding our arrival died down enough for the Chairman of the Commission to be easily heard without raising his voice. Naturally, first came a performance for the gullible, I had to stand up at attention, raise my right hand and solemnly swear I would be telling the truth, and only the truth, believe me. It was actually hard to keep my expression blank during this part of the circus. Once the swearing was over, I could sit back and await the inevitable storm of questions in relative comfort.

"Mr Veil," A middle aged man sitting on the second row began. Made a show at squinting at his name-table, reading his name – George North, a Senator member of the Intelligence Oversight Committee. He was a dark skinned balding man with a sharp intelligent eyes who was currently intensely frustrated. "You're on public record opposing the installment of NATO Oversight Committee members in your company." He began.

I simply stared at him for a few moments, waiting to see if he would continue or not. "Was that a question or a statement, Senator?" I inquired politely.

"A question, obviously." The man's frustration spiked up further and I wondered who pissed in his coffee this morning.

"That is correct. I had and for that matter, still have some concerns about the consequences of accepting said ultimatum."

"That's most curious, Mr Veil. You're on record opposing oversight of your corporation and her we are, faced with the unpleasant truth of the Soviets gaining access to information and designs vital to the security not only to this nation but all our allies. How do you explain this?"

"Senator, before I answer your inquiry, can I ask for a clarification? Have you been briefed on the full details surrounding the reason we're all here today?" I spoke while schooling my face to show an expression of polite interest.

"I believe so, Mr Veil. Please answer my question."

Well, his funeral.

"So be it." I looked at my chief lawyer who gave me a small nod and pushed the top folder in front of him my way. "On the face of it, the answer is quite simple and very unpleasant, Senator." I picked up the folder, opened it and glanced inside to confirm its contents. It contained very good pictures of people getting off a plane at the Sheremetyevo International Airport in Moscow. Three large black Volgas stood near the ladder complete with a small greeting party of people in heavy winter clothes. A second picture was focused on one particular disembarking passenger, who until a few months ago was a senior member of the NATO Oversight Committee forced upon me.

There were a lot of pictures in that folder, showing how the man got off the plane with a proud smile on his face to be literally embraced by a few friends in the KGB before they got his luggage and left. The Imperio and a few friends in Moscow ensured that today would be a circus almost without precedent in American history and we were just beginning.

"And unfortunately I was right in my concerns about the Oversight Committee." I declared in a sad tone and picked up two of the pictures, one showing a certain Major Michael Brown in all his glory disembarking the plane, and a second one, the same man with a stunning blond woman hugging him, while he was shaking hands with a high ranking KGB agent on the airfield.

You see, Major Brown was one of the oversight people fostered upon me by the Oversight Committee. He was kind of an ass too, which meant that he was among the people who volunteered to be mind-whammied and set up as one of the sources that leaked my technology to my new friends in Moscow. The witch hunt that would follow was going to be glorious, and just the tip of the iceberg as far as getting even with the bloody bastards who decided it was a good idea to meddle in my affairs.

The journalists kneeling before the table in front of me wasted no time snapping pictures and at least two news cameramen filmed the show so it could be broadcast live.

It took a bit of time for people to figure out exactly what they were seeing, a bit longer for the information to get to those who couldn't see the pictures. Nevertheless, very soon all that could be heard was shouted questions and curses. Even better, the expressions of a lot of Senators and Congressmen were precious and captured for posterity. What I found most amusing of all was that more than a few of those were among the people who pushed for forcing that damn oversight upon my corporation, not to mention declaring my most important patents vital for national security with all the red tape that entailed.

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 5**

 **=TSA=**

* * *

 _For a third week, the Veil Affair continues to shake Washington. In the days following Mr Veil's testimony in front of the House-Senate Commission, more pictures and intelligence briefings surfaced, painting a grim pictures. Sources within the government who desire to remain anonymous compare what is happening right now as a the Third Red Scare, not so different to the witch-hunts led by Senator McCarthy in the late 1940'es and early 1950'es._

 _What we know for sure right now is that three men, Major Brown from the US Air Force, Captain Jaques Millian, from the French Army and Captain Harold Smith from the British Army had been confirmed as defectors who brought a large amount of classified military and corporate secrets, primary technical information. Yesterday, the Soviets celebrated their intelligence coup with a parade featuring Major Brown and Captain Millian being marched through the Red Square in Moscow where they received some of the highest medals the Soviet Union could award, thus confirming beyond shadow of a doubt their treason…_

 _Anonymous sources in the Pentagon and the US Government suggest that NATO's various governments should take full control of industries critical for the continued security of the free world, Mandal Technologies and it subsidiaries being a primary candidate for such a move… Critics hurried to point out that so far all confirmed leaks have their origins in the military and Government meddling in the affairs of said corporation and further, seizing its assets and practically nationalizing it would be a step expected by the Communists, not the leaders of the Free World…_

 _Mr Veil refused to comment upon any such speculations at this time…_

 _Mandal Motor's subsidiary, Mandal Energy Solutions confirms a breakthrough in nuclear Fusion to widespread acclaim and consternation. Mandal Motor's CEO, Mr Dimitri Veil hinted at the corporation currently working on making Fusion economically viable after achieving what until recently was little more than science fiction…_

 _Today begins the fourth week of House and Senate Hearings. Members of the Oversight Commission assigned to watch over Mandal Technologies are scheduled to begin testifying this afternoon about the grievous breach of security their organization facilitated instead of preventing. We remind our readers that the Oversight Commission was created in the first place to ensure the Soviet Union and its allies would gain no critical data about the new technologies being created by the rising tech giant. Instead the Commission failed spectacularly when three of its members defected with as much sensitive data as they could steal…_

 _Blood in the Potomac as Senate and Congress critters turn upon each other amid accusations of incompetence and even sympathies to the Reds!_

 _Early this afternoon,_ _President_ _Petersen_ _fir_ _ed_ _his National Security Advisor over the Veil Affair._ _This happened mere hours_ _after it was confirmed that former NatSec Mich O'Connell was a firm supporter of establishing the Oversight Committee and even offered recommendations about its members, members who are currently under investigation by the FBI and Army CID..._

* * *

 **=TSA=**

 **late September 1991**

 **Washington DC**

 **United States**

They entered the Congress building for the third time that week, and this time, the camera flashes were nearly overwhelming, again, despite numerous precautions. It was only thanks to a strategically taken Calming Draught, that Chloe managed to keep her instincts under control and avoided hissing furiously at the irritating flashes. There were hundreds of those and those were just the reporters. At least a hundred hand-picked journalists stood in tow lines on the steps in front of the Capitol building screened by thin lines of uniformed police. Far below on the street, a few hundred armoured riot policemen stood in formation facing off against large and unruly crowds. To say that her husband let the foxes in the chicken coop last week would have be a charming understatement.

Ever since Dimitri's first appearance in front of the joint House-Senate Commission, Washington had been in a furor and there was little else people around here spoke about. The media did its best to make things worse, gleefully chasing ratings and as far as her husband was concerned, slowly but surely digging the grave of the local brand of democracy.

Observing and experiencing the fallout first hand was both entertaining and frustrating. It was true that Chloe did insist on playing the role of dutiful and supportive wife, to Dimitri's amusement, but still! Her gums ached as she struggled to keep her fangs in place, as instincts fought for dominance within her. She wanted to snarl at the people encroaching on her territory and shouting question. Dimitri was hers, damn it and she felt the insistent need to very publicly stake her claim and fry the next bitch who even looked his way!

Dimitri squeezed her hand, hard, and glanced her way, his eyes flashing yellow for a split moment, just fast enough for her to see it. That was both reassurance and a warning that this wasn't the time and place to make a scene. Damn it, Chloe fumed, she thought she had a better control upon herself! Then again, she hadn't had to play the role of a normal human under intense scrutiny for so long since her turning. Perhaps, insisting on coming have been a mistake after all, however now it was too late to address it. She had to soldier on for as long as it took.

Entering the Capitol building itself offered Chloe a short respite that helped her center herself, and it happened just in time too. The large interview room was the fullest she had ever seen her and the sheer presence of so many warm flustered bodies, the fast beat of so many hearts and the oh so delicious blood racing just under their skins… It was simply divine and almost impossible to resist. Chloe clutched her hands behind her, trying to project nothing more than a mild interest and vowed that she would do her best to avoid such complications until she had her nature under much better control. Thankfully, her veil helped mask her expression, not to mention the twitching nose and large, dialed eyes that went to the necks of nearby people on their own accord.

Yeah, this was a bad, bad idea, Chloe decided. At least today's entertainment promised to be good, perhaps even enough of distraction to forge through the interview.

Of course, if it wasn't for "mission creep from hell" as Dimitri put it, they might not even be here in the first place, which was something Chloe was still salty about and the primary reason she left her self-imposed seclusion. After all, it was now painfully obvious that her husband sorely needed adult supervision in order not to get entangled in even more schemes; there were more than enough ongoing ones that tended to devour his time.

Chloe rolled her eyes at the muggle pointless mockery of a vow that Dimitri had to take again, and focused her attention on her husband. Even with his powers kept on the tightest leash possible, she could feel the darkness oozing around his form. The bloodsucking monster in her found it both enticing and dangerous, which was enough to help her contain her blood-lust better.

"Mr Veil, this Commission has some questions about your dealings with countries beyond the Iron Curtain, particularly about certain investments made by Mandal Technologies Subsidiaries within the Warsaw Pact in particular."

"Anything in particular or are we talking about said investments in general?" Dimitri asked.

"Let's go with general, first. You did make the choice to begin investments behind the Iron Curtain in late 1989, is that correct, Mr Veil?"

"That is correct, Senator. It appeared to be a good idea at the time. In fact, my belief is that it was an excellent idea at a time when we all believed that the Soviets would face a tough choice – either invest enormous amount of money to catch up with our breakthroughs and build the necessary infrastructure to make use of them or continue spending enough money on their conventional military so it could continue to be a credible threat to Western Europe. My personal belief is that we came incredibly close to seeing the dissolution of the Soviet Union or at least the Warsaw Pact earlier this year, thus winning the Cold War and hopefully seeing Eastern Europe on its way to recovery under a healthy free economy. Unfortunately, the deaths of certain reformists in Soviet Russia combined with what we know now – that the Soviets gained access to priceless research and designs were key factors in the continued existence of the Soviet Union. At least in my humble opinion."

More cameras flashed, excited murmurs buzzed until they were almost impossible to tolerate and the general excitement made all the humans surrounding Chloe ache to sink her fangs into someones tasty neck and guzzle down blood until she had her fill. She concentrated on her husband and his words to the exclusion of everything else, which helped her push through the overwhelming buzz.

"That's a bold claim, Mr Veil, one that not many people agree with."

"There are many political analysts word-wide who are still dissecting the happenings in Moscow and Warsaw earlier this year, Congressman Sanchez. While I'm sure that they don't have access to all the information you and your peers see as a part of the Intelligence Oversight Committee, my belief is that the Soviet Union could have crashed under the weight of Communism just a few short months ago. It was that potential and the relative normalization of relations in the late eighties that convinced me that limited investments in Eastern Europe were a reasonable risk with a very high potential reward – a foot in a previously untapped markets that might open in the foreseeable future. Personally, I do hope for said normalization to continue and not because of the potential of loosing my investments. While another arm's race would line up my pockets nicely, it is not in the Free Word's best interest. Besides, Mandal Technologies is posed to make an incredible amount of money anyway through our patents and the civilian technologies we're working on. In fact, this whole mess has been counter-productive and restricting in our pursuit to bring a better and brighter tomorrow to the world at large."

"Mr Veil, we didn't call you here so you can take the opportunity for free advertisement of your corporation!"

"Do you really expect me to miss on such a priceless opportunity? My PR people won't let me hear the end of it if I did so!" Dimitri protested in a mock outrage, bringing a small smile to Chloe's face. "That said I do understand your point and I'll do my utmost to behave myself. What is the next question?"

Even without magic, there was something captivating in the way he spoke, if not the words themselves, which both demanded attention and made you listen.


	51. Chapter 15 Parts 6&7

**AN: This update is not betaedz.**

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 **Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Wars movies, books or games. They belong to Disney or their various copyright owners. I don't own** **any of the** **H** **arry Potter books, movies or games,** **they** **belongs t** **o their respective copyright owners** **. This story is not meant for sale nor rent. I make no money from it.**

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 **Chapter 1** **5**

 **=TSA=**

 **Part 6**

 **=TSA=**

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 **early October 1991**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **London**

 **UK**

They arrived in the Ministry's atrium in a swirl of green flames and for a single moment after stepping on the marble floor they could enjoy an instant of anonymity before the people in the area noticed their arrival, and more importantly, their identity. This was Chloe's first visit to the British Ministry of Magic and she couldn't help it – she had to compare it to the French one. The first thing that struck her was how dark and gloomy first impression this place offered. The brightest colour in the atrium came from the offending and quite ugly statue of various magical creatures looking up at wizards and witches in adoring, even awestruck manner. As a Veela in life, and something much more dangerous and darker now, Chloe instinctively found the message that sorry piece of "art" sent to all visitors, deeply offending. Further, the place was all too dark and gloomy for her taste, even if the vampire part of her immediately went noting all the shadowed corners she could use as an ambush/hiding place. In contrast, below its coloured domes, the French Ministry was well lit up, with an atrium that was wide open complete with multiple desks where helpful clerks waited to offer assistance to the citizenry.

Once the people around noticed them, a hush fell upon the atrium and everyone's eyes stared at them, either in fear, anticipation, judgment and rarest of all, honest curiosity. Chloe bit off a sneer, subdued her need to plant her elbow in her husband's side due to his amusement and looked around for any threats or anything of particular interests. Arches rose up in the air around the atrium and each one was covered with scores of offices, most of them dark. If they were all occupied and lit up, the light might have been enough to dispel the shadows clinging to the whole area, and thus made for a better first impression. As thing stood, the fires coming from the floo network cast brighter light than those supposed to illuminate this part of the ministry. It was a queer sight, especially for the place of power of people so steeped up in the conflict between the so called "light" and "darkness". Then again, what else should one expect? Those people were British and the exceptions like Dimitri or the Tonkses were few and far between…

Dimitri led them towards a nearby reception desk, glibly ignoring all the stares. There, a young Witch stuttered in fear at their approach.

"Dimitri Veil of the Noble House of Veil, here for today's Wizengamot session." Chloe's husband spoke in a voice like silk that brushed over her whole being like warm water, sending pleasant shivers through her bones. "With my Lady wife," she couldn't help but beam at the pride with which he pronounced her title – like she was the most important treasure in the world, "Chloe Veil."

"Ah… Yes, My Lord." The Receptionist shook herself from her stupor and fell back on stiff formality. "I'll need to verify your identity. Your wands, please."

Dimitri offered his own for inspection and tagging and when it was her turn, Chloe smiled pleasantly and opened her mouth just enough for her elongated fangs to be visible. "I don't own nor need a wand."

The young Witch blanched, all the blood remaining in her face draining making her paler than a ghost.

"If that's all, we'll be going now, my dear." Dimitri snatched his wand out of the Receptionist's numb fingers with a burst of wandless magic that sent ripples of of unease through all those observing them.

While Chloe wasn't thrilled at playing the role of an arm ornament for the time being, it was moments like this that made it almost worth it. This wasn't the kind of attention the Veela in her craved, she wanted awe, desire, lust and love from all who surveyed her. The apex predator she became against her will on the other hand, it reveled at the terror her partner, not to mention her own visage, could bestow upon people nowadays.

They walked deeper into the Ministry, with Dimitri humming in amusement all the way while the gathered observers parted before them. Visitors and employees alike, even Aurors hurried to make way, Dimitri's reputation alone enough to make them wary of even giving the impression that they barred his way. This was so different from their visits to the Muggle governments, it was much better. Here and now, Chloe felt powerful, and she couldn't wait until she would no longer need to hid her true nature. One day… Her lips twisted upwards, her smile becoming a wicked, stunning thing.

Soon, they reached the corridor leading within the Wizengamot Chambers. Wizengamot members milled around, gathering in groups for small talk or subdued conversations about today's agenda. Most of them didn't fail to send wary or even hungry glances their way. They met Andromeda near the closed and sealed doors of the Chambers, where she had been busy in an animated, yet quiet conversation with a trio of wizards. Two of them showed obvious familiar resemblance – an old man and who was presumably his son, both wearing identical Wizengamot robes, just like Dimitri himself, which made their resemblance even more striking. The other Wizard was middle aged and the first thing one noticed about him was his short, sand colored hair, which stuck out like a sore thumb in contrast with his dark official robes.

As they walked to greet Andromeda, the pair passed through a privacy charm obscuring the topic of the small group's conversation.

"Dimitri!" Andromeda greeted with a warm smile and offered a her hand, which Chloe's husband took gently with a matching smile of his own and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand.

Chloe's own smile became genuine as well as she greeted the Witch. Andromeda was one of the few British women she had met that not only passed muster and could be decent company, but she could consider a friend.

"Let me introduce you to these gentlemen." Andromeda's voice was rich honey, dripping in sincerity. "This is Lord Reginald Davis," she made the introduction using the courtesy title for all those who held a seat on the Wizengamot, "and his Heir, Charles Davis. My Lord, Charles, these are my good friends, Lord Veil and his lovely wife, Chloe."

More handshakes, courtesies and two pairs of lips warily ghosting over the back of Chloe's right hand later, Andromeda introduced the third Wizard as Lord Michael Greengrass, prompting another round of greetings.

As far as Chloe was concerned, these three had two primary traits that distinguished them – they were leaders among what passed for neutral faction in the Wizengamot and were relatives of two of Harry's friends in Slytherin in Hogwarts according to the letters Dimitri's Apprentice had been sending home.

"As we expected, some of our _friends_ in the Wizengamot are going to make an issue of your business within the Muggle world. Considering what have been happening as of late, they do have a valid reason to be concerned so we can't simply brush it off." With the courtesies over, Andromeda went straight for the important topic.

"One way or another the Wizengamot will remain out of my business. The only question is if we'll do it through a successful vote or other means." Dimitri spoke in a light tone, while a small, amused smile graced his face, all the while, Chloe carefully watched the three Wizards they just met.

They were examining the pair with neutral expressions on their faces, obviously studying them as well. To give credit where credit was due, none of them visibly reacted at the implication that Dimitri was ready to go against the Ministry on this topic. On one hand, even implying so could be considered as treason by some, on the other hand, the primary and most important topic of today's Wizengamot session was going to be the meddling of said parliament into the private business of one of their members, a business that already offered an ungodly amount of money, influence and trouble in profit.

In the past, Wizards and Witches had clashed with and openly defied various Ministries of Magic across the world when much less wealth and power had been at stake. This time? The only questions were where these three Wizards stood and if the Wizengamot would entertain creating a precedent which could be used against many of its members if allowed. On the face of it, such a motion should be easily defeated on general principle. In practice, Dimitri and his "master", well, they terrified a lot of people something fierce and there might be enough people ready to support a motion that might be seen to curtail his influence and power. Chloe honestly wasn't sure how today's vote might go. That was something she found out she didn't fear. Instead, she found the unknown and the potential for unrestrained violence in case things went wrong, terribly enticing...

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 **=TSA=**

 **Part 7**

 **=TSA=**

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 **early October 1991**

 **Ministry of Magic**

 **London**

 **UK**

Chloe settled down among the visitors gallery, while quietly participating in small talk with her newest two acquaintances – the wives of Charles Davis and Thomas Greengrass respectively, Amelia and Cassandra. Both of Witches appeared to be pleasant company, at least going by what little they had shown so far, pretty enough too, though they naturally simply paled in comparison when sitting near a Veela, something that made Chloe instinctively preen. Her mere looks, which easily betrayed her heritage made many of the other women in the gallery throw her poisonous and envious looks, and even with her allure kept under Goblins steel control, many of the men couldn't tear their eyes from her figure once they gave her on good look.

Chloe had to struggle to keep a wicked smile off her face, the attention tickled pink half of her heritage, while her newer vampire nature was excited at having access to so many eager and trivial to entice prey. While that did wonders to her ego, she had to struggle to maintain her focus both through-out the mostly meaningless conversation, and now, more importantly, the beginning parliament session. That was problematic, because the real reason Chloe was here was to observe, watch and learn. She cast her gaze upon the filling up seats of the Wizengamot, trying to recall the names of the most notable members and their allegiance.

The Parliament of Magical Britain wasn't divided among party or alliance lines, the sitting arrangements had only one real divide. To the right of the room, taking most available space were the actual Wizengamot seats, set up a long time ago by the importance said families held, with the higher ranking being lower, closer to the ground, while the rest were spread out on rising benches behind them. To their right, stood the raised visitors galley.

The left side of the Chamber was relegated for the Minister, Ministry officials with votes, Chief Warlock and the stenographers. In practice, that meant every single department head should be in attendance in order to answer any relevant questions to their expertise and vote.

This in turn made it harder than one might expect to get a good reading on who belonged to what faction. For example, back in France, the Parliament was sensibly divided by party association.

Chloe could recognize individuals at least, either because she had met them before in a few cases, or more commonly, thanks to being schooled on their appearance by Andromeda over the past couple of days. There was Augusta Longbottom, one of the pillars of the Progressive Faction, she stood in the first row of seats, as befitting a scion of the so called Sacred 28. The old war-axe was distinguished by her trademarked vulture hat, which now rested in front of her and Chloe could swear, it glared at the Ministry seats. Thomas Greengrass sat on the roll behind Longbottom, just one seat to the left from the old Witch, chatting with a younger Wizard Chloe wasn't familiar with. Charles Davis on the other hand was to the far right of the second roll, speaking with another ancient Wizard, and judging by what she could see, that had to be Thoros Nott, one of the leaders of the Conservative faction.

Thinking about them, Chloe's eyes darted to the middle rolls of seats and sure enough, there was no mistaking Lucious Malfoy with his practically shining blond hair. He was flanked by a mountain of a man to the right and a short, mousy man to the left, neither of whom she could recognize. She made a note of Malfoy's position and her eyes darted to the back seats, reserved for mere Noble houses, like her husbands and sure enough, there was no mistaking Dimitri's form. He appeared relaxed and busy in an animated conversation with a skeletal ancient wizard, who nevertheless wore his pristine Wizengamot robes with pride.

While shew as busy trying to figure out who was who based on Andromeda's descriptions, Chloe was forced to nevertheless divide her attention between that rather important task and not alienating the wives of two potential political allies. Than in itself proved to be harder than one might expect. A few years ago, Chloe would have been interested in the gossip and the talk about the next big social event in Magical Britain – the Samhain celebrations at the end of the month. While she was still looking up to celebrating Samhain itself, nowadays Chloe was looking up to doing it privately with her family, perhaps one of the parties her husband threw regularly for people like them, instead of the world at large. Ever since she came to grips with her new nature, the usual expectations and what passed for celebrations by the magical world at large simply felt fake, oppressing and empty. That was a sharp contrast to how she felt back in the day, when her Veela nature made her hungry for the attention everyone eagerly offered her when she deigned to appear to a social function among civilized society.

Chloe simply hummed when asked whose gala she and Dimitri would be attending, or even if given her husband's status as the Master of the Boy-Who-Lived, they would be arranging their own along with Andromeda, declining to give a clear answer at this time. Thankfully, the session was finally about to begin, with the Parliament members settling in and the Ministry officials taking their own seats as well. That sent a hush through out the visitors gallery to Chloe's immense relief.

She paid scarce attention to Dumbledore's rehearsed words that opened the November's session of the Wizengamot – they were supposedly the same every damn time, and her eyes bored into the known members of the Conservative faction. It was going to be educational to see which way they were going to jump today.

"…session is now open." Dumbledore declared. "First term of business is swearing in new members of the Wizengamot or assigned proxies." The ancient Chief Warlock turned his attention to one of the secretaries supposed to handle said issues.

"There are no new Wizengamot Members ready to swear during this session, Chief Warlock. However, we have two cases of changing proxies." A young nondescript wizard raised his wand and levitated a pair of sealed parchments in front of Dumbledore.

The Chief Warlock produced his own wand and gently touched the seals while muttering an incantation, checking their authenticity, Chloe guessed. He proceeded to open and read the scrolls, before calling in the new proxies. The first one was a young woman who couldn't have graduated school more that couple of years ago.

"Lady Matilda Travis, standing in for my younger brother, Horatio Travis." The Witch introduced herself.

A minor branch of House Travis perhaps? Chloe was pretty sure that there was a Wizard in the middle benches of the same name, complete with at least an heir and a spare to inherit his title…

"Lady Joanna Zabini, standing in for my son, Lord Blaise Zabini." A tall striking woman announced as she stood up from the back of the Chamber. She had long black hair, dazzling eyes that even Chloe found enthralling and a voice that was made to melt, or harden men. Fine aristocratic features gave her face a classical beauty, all told, it was a very nice package.

So that was the so called Black Widow who was on husband number five now if the rumours about her were true. Wasn't her son quite chummy with Harry and his friends as well?

This session might turn out to be quite interesting for more than one reason after all, Chloe concluded. She paid no attention to Dumbledore swearing in the proxies and instead, she concentrated on studying the various reactions of Zabini taking her place in the Wizengamot. The visitors' gallery exploded with outraged whispers, though there wasn't anything useful Chloe learned – it was primary rumours and careful digs at Zabini's reputation.

The reactions among the Wizengamot were more interesting. Many a member showed undisguised surprise at the woman's appearance among their numbers. What game was she playing, they had to wonder, just as Chloe did.

The furor died soon enough, and the real show began.

"Item two on today's agenda is hearing the various concerns this body has..." Dumbledore began and immediately six wands rose up among the Wizengamot members, glowing bright and two more joined them from the Ministry Side.

"As per tradition, we'll hear the Department Heads first, going by seniority. Mr Diggory, you have the floor." Dumbledore nodded to a plump aging wizard.

Diggory stood up with quiet dignity and pushed his glasses up his nose. His wide face showed numerous smile-marks, however there was no trace of joy, much less smile as he began to speak.

"Honored Members, I have a few most concerning announcements to make." Diggory began speaking in a grave tone. "First, now we can officially confirm that last month the Ministry lost control of two Dementors from Azkaban, which were consequently used in the attack upon a member of this exalted body in Coventry."

On the face of it, this was no news – it was confirmed that there were Dementors present during the attack upon her husband last month, something that still infuriated Chloe. The very thought that someone dared attack Dimitri in so braze a way, that people dared try and take from her the one person who saved Chloe and her daughter from fate much worse than death, she bit the inside of her cheek hard, tasting delicious blood in an attempt to keep herself from hissing furiously. Her fangs elongated, her eyes narrowed, her vision sharpening as her vampiric nature came to the forefront. Chloe had to close her eyes grip her sides and use all her willpower to regain control before making a proper scene. It worked thanks to the endless hours of therapy and days spent on meditating and mental exercises to keep herself under semblance of control.

Amelia and Cassandra gave her brief wary looks, though thankfully declined to comment, while everyone else was too busy muttering over Diggory's report.

The man's next words brought a smile to Chloe's face and helped her re-establish proper control over her predatory nature.

"The second Dementor used in the attack is missing, presumed destroyed." At that, everyone sent wary glances at the back of the Wizengamot benches, where Dimitri endured the attention with a hint of a smile on his otherwise blank face.

"Currently, the DMLE continues investigating this incident." Amos continued. "Another point of concern that I must report is in relation with our Vampire and Werewolf population. There have been more accidents as of late, as well as persistent rumours that the various packs and covens are consolidating and conducting regular meetings, something we haven't seen since the Blood War. As of this moment, we have no concrete evidence about the agenda and the reasons about their change in behavior, merely speculations." At that, Diggory sent an accusing glare towards Dimitri, something her husband disregarded as of no consequence.

"Thank you, Mr Diggory." Dumbledore nodded. "We'll be open for discussions after we hear from Mr Crouch."

The former director of the DMLE rose next and glowered at the assembly. "I must bring up to your attention the international fallout from the attack in Coventry and the concerns many of our friends abroad, and within the ICW have over the actions of one of our esteemed members." Crouch spoke with an undisguised sneer. "The attack in Coventry and the multiple times Dimitri Veil has been called to testify in front of various Muggle governments is of a grave concern for the international community. In fact, many an ambassador have made it clear that their own governments watch the current developments with _utmost_ concern. The reason for this is simple, the attack in Coventry and the close contact Dimitri Veil has with the muggle world places _our_ world in grave danger of exposure – that is what our counterparts in Europe and across the world believe."

So, that was how they were going to play it, Chloe concluded, anticipation building within her. Placed in this light, a bill to try and restrict Dimitri's dealings with the muggle world, especially the muggle governments and impact his business might just pass out of fear if nothing else.

A few moments of silence reigned while everyone digested Crouch's words, before the whole Chamber exploded in concerned whispers.

"Thank you, Mr Crouch. Now the esteemed Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot have the floor to bring up their own concerns and discuss the reports from our Department Heads..." Dumbledore spoke in a cool tone, betraying nothing of how he truly felt. As soon as he said his peace, at least two dozen wands lit up.


End file.
